


With Our Destinies Entwined

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding, Episode Related, M/M, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years have passed, and Gabriel still lies dead, his grace scattered, his wings turned to ash. Above him, newly victorious in a war he never wanted to fight, Castiel stands, finally willing and able to do whatever it takes to bring Gabriel back.</p><p>The key lies in his memories, in acknowledging the bonds of friendship and brotherhood and so much more that were forged between them on a battlefield hundreds of lifetimes ago. Bonds that were later shattered, giving way to a life filled with solitude and bitterness and sorrow. If Castiel wants Gabriel back, he must relive all of it. And he must pray that afterwards, there can finally be forgiveness and healing between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Our Destinies Entwined

**Author's Note:**

> Please also take a moment to visit starry-ice's incredible art for this story [here](http://starry-ice.livejournal.com/75189.html). It's gorgeous, and abolutely worth checking out. ♥

_There is a story, a **history** , that Castiel has never told. It is a tale of brotherhood and battles, of friendship and faith, of rebellion and remembrance. It is painful, and it is passionate. It is the past that shaped Castiel into the soldier, the friend, the **angel** that he is now. It is a song, a poem, an ode, a tragic play on a stage that has always been as ever-changing as the tide. It is a secret that no one knows, save perhaps the Father Himself._

_It is the story of an archangel who unwillingly commanded a garrison, and the soldier who, by chance or by fate, befriended him._

_It's been almost two years since the world as humanity knows it was saved, and this, here, now, is the first time Castiel has allowed himself to think of the untold story of Gabriel and himself._

_The civil war in Heaven has ended, but the long road to putting his home back together is just beginning. Castiel’s brothers and sisters continue to be unwilling to listen to reason and logic, and Castiel himself is **tired**. He’s tired, and heartsick, and desperate, and perhaps that’s why he goes to the abandoned corpse of the hotel the Winchesters told him about. Perhaps that’s why he finds himself standing over his fallen brother, pain churning in his grace at the sight. A sight he has refused to see, refused to even imagine, since the first moment Sam told him what had happened that night._

_It’s been almost two years, but the body his brother wore, the body he created and used as his own, has not deteriorated, has not **moved** , and Castiel can only assume that something keeps people from this place, keeps them from desecrating this last remainder of the only archangel he ever truly **knew**. The latent power of the gods, perhaps, which permeates the air around him and infuses every inch of the building. Or maybe it’s just the sense of **wrongness** , of death and agony, that lingers still, even so long after, keeping humans away without them ever realizing why._

_Whatever the reason, his brother still lays there, wings of dust and ash still spread beneath him. An imprint, an echo. Nothing more._

_Gabriel is gone, his grace shattered and spread, given back to the ether from whence it came, and Castiel is as alone as he’s been all along._

_But he can change that. He has been given the power to change it, and he has been given the freedom of the **choice**. Castiel has proven he has the capability of choosing for himself, for what he believes in, and his Father has granted him the **right**. God believes in Castiel, though He won’t appear before him and say so. If God believes in Castiel, it stands to reason that Castiel should believe in himself._

_Which means, if he chooses to do this, it will be because he knows it to be the right decision._

_He kneels on the ground, his head bowed. Gabriel, for all of his faults and despite all the pain he caused Castiel, deserves better than this, and that is reason enough for what Castiel is about to do, painful though it will be._

_But Castiel can admit that he also **misses** Gabriel, has missed Gabriel for a very long time. More than all of it, Castiel is lonely. He’s so tired of being so alone._

_He’s so **tired**._

_He reaches out, smoothes back a lock of Gabriel’s hair, so careful not to touch the skin that he knows will be ice cold. When he feels ready, he closes his eyes, reaching deeply within himself._

_He opens himself to the ebbs and flows of his grace, and for the first time in millennia, he allows himself to truly **remember**._

_**Gabriel** , his heart sings. **My brother. My friend.**_

__  
**Gabriel.**  


__  
**My love.**  


~*~

He wasn’t created to be a soldier, but soldiers were what were needed the most now, with Lucifer leading a rebellion against all of Heaven. The war had been going on for a long time, longer than any in Heaven had thought it would. Recruiting the angels who were not soldiers but had the potential to be was the logical next step. Castiel had always learned quickly and adapted well, so that was what he did now. He learned.

He learned to hold a sword, learned to battle his way through the ranks of his brothers-and-sisters-turned-enemies. He learned to move as a human – one of the ‘hairless apes’, his brother Balthazar called them, while others in the garrison had far more derogatory names – would have to, learned for the first time what it was like to take a vessel, in case the need arose to take the fighting outside of Heaven.

He learned the quickest and surest ways to kill an angel, and he learned how to block himself from feeling regret until the job was done.

He learned to be what they wanted him to be, and though he wondered what his existence would be like if he’d been allowed to continue as he’d always done, he never questioned the orders, never wondered why _him_.

Castiel had always been a student, and he took that talent and used it for the sake of those who needed him. For the sake of those who were his family.

His garrison, to begin with, wasn’t special. They were just another group of soldiers, another flock training to kill in ways they’d never needed to before. They were given the very basics they needed to survive and were all but left to train themselves until someone could be found to lead them. They kept to themselves and were largely ignored by most of those above them.

But then Gabriel came.

Until then, Castiel had never met an archangel. They were too important, too busy to be bothered with the lower-class angels and cherubs. They were the ones who were special, who communed with the Father and were allowed to see His face, hear His voice. They were the ones who passed down His orders and made sure that His will was done.

They were the light of Heaven, and Castiel had always assumed that if he were ever to meet one, he would flounder, unable to do anything but gaze helplessly in awe of their radiance.

Gabriel was not what he expected of an archangel.

He was cocky and arrogant, for one thing. When Castiel met him, it was on earth, each member of the garrison wearing a vessel at the time, each still trying to acclimate to how _different_ it felt, being confined to something so limited. Gabriel had twisted his vessel’s face so that the corner of its mouth was curled, eyes laughing at a private joke only he could understand as he gazed at the soldiers suddenly under his command.

Castiel would later learn that this expression was a ‘smirk’, and forever after, even during the times in Heaven when they weren’t focused on holding a particular form, when they were nothing more than grace-light and shapeless energy, he would always, always see Gabriel wearing that smirk.

It would grow to be both infuriating and adored, maddening and beloved…but Castiel couldn’t know that then.

Gabriel was also fiercely reluctant. He had no desire to lead a garrison, and made no secret of the fact that he was resentful that it had been thrust on him, though he never made clear if it was one of the other archangels who gave him the task, or God Himself. Gabriel did the job that was required of him, and obviously, to Castiel at least, hated every moment of it.

In the beginning, it seemed that Gabriel was content to ignore or simply not acknowledge any of the angels he’d suddenly found under his command. He never made eye contact with Castiel, certainly, or even bothered to learn his name as far as Castiel could tell.

And even as time went on, and the angels in the garrison grew to trust each other more and more, to work in tandem in ways that, before the war, they’d never needed to…as they created bonds of true _friendship_ alongside the ever-present familial bonds…still, Gabriel held himself aloof and apart.

For a time, Castiel believed that Gabriel truly didn’t care, and he didn’t allow himself to be bothered by it. His view of archangels and what they represented had been skewed by Gabriel, certainly, but archangels themselves were still in a class of their own, and still obviously too powerful to be bothered with those below them. Gabriel’s detachment made sense, in that context.

It was sheer happenstance that when the call came down that their garrison would be joining the fight, that they’d be on the front lines of the war against Lucifer himself, Castiel was standing too close to Gabriel.

His grace brushed against the archangel’s, and he was overcome by the force of Gabriel’s fear.

Fear not for himself, but for those who were about to go to their deaths on his command.

And it was nothing more than habit that had Castiel instinctively reaching out to him, reassuring him with wave after wave of trust in their orders, of faith in their Father’s plan, of determination to do all he could in this war, both for God and for Gabriel.

When the archangel gasped sharply, when he turned wide eyes on Castiel and truly saw the younger angel for the first time…

That was when the first bond, small but unbreakable forever afterwards, was formed between them.

~*~

They had a small amount of time before they would be expected to don their armor and fly to the frontlines. While most of the garrison used that time to meditate, to charge their graces, to pray to their Father and bask in His love, this was not what Castiel or Gabriel chose to do.

Castiel spent the time watching earth. He found it relaxing, enjoyed seeing humanity in its element, enjoyed watching these strange beings God had created as they lived and breathed and _felt_ , so much, all the time. And it helped, watching them, knowing that _these_ were the beings he was fighting for. For their right to the gifts God had given them. It helped him find his sense of purpose, helped him come to terms with what he knew he’d have to do, soon.

And while he watched humanity, he was aware, always, that Gabriel was watching _him_.

Ever since that accidental bit of contact, ever since Castiel had received that small glimpse of who Gabriel truly was, the archangel had kept him in his sights. It was curiosity, Castiel decided, nothing else. He doubted that Gabriel had had much contact at all with the lower classes of angels, and with how he held himself apart from even his garrison, it was no wonder.

So one small angel had gotten under his grace, just for a moment, and it had made Gabriel curious. Castiel made promise after promise to himself that it wouldn’t happen again, he wouldn’t allow himself to make the same mistake twice.

But Gabriel never seemed angry. And he never stopped watching.

And Castiel failed to realize that, for all his promises to himself, and for all the distraction earth provided him with… He was watching Gabriel _back_.

~*~

It was Gabriel who created Castiel’s armor for him, when the other angels in the garrison started working to put together their own. Gabriel dragged Castiel to earth and pointed imperiously in front of himself. “Stand right here,” he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. “And don’t move. Would be a shame to decide you’re a worthwhile soldier, only to accidentally blow you up immediately afterwards.”

Castiel did not know enough, then, to know that Gabriel was probably joking. He stood, cloaked in his vessel, tall and unflinching even when Gabriel snapped his fingers and the very fibers of ether around them responded to his will.

Slowly, and with a care Castiel would not have suspected him capable of showing, Gabriel weaved bits and pieces of Creation around Castiel. What seemed like little more than air at first solidified into gleaming metal, something more than silver, something that shone like platinum…something that was both of the earth and mixed with an archangel’s grace to create what should be all but impenetrable. Enochian designs, sigils of protection old and powerful and well beyond anything Castiel had yet been taught, slowly etched themselves along the breastplate, and they were outlined in stardust, shining with heavenly light and ringing with angelsong.

The armor was weightless, and moved easily with him. A flawless design, a nearly perfect defense, and one that would shield him as well in his true form as it would in his vessel. “I do not understand,” Castiel admitted, when Gabriel’s hand finally lowered and he was gazing upon his work with a gleam in his eyes and a small smile gracing his lips.

“What’s there to understand?” the archangel asked, raising an eyebrow. Castiel secretly spent more time than he should trying to figure out how Gabriel had learned such a repertoire of human expressions. He himself could barely understand the desire to smile with anything but his grace, and it seemed such an unnecessary effort to twist his vessel’s features into an inferior mimicry of that.

“Why have you helped me with this?” Castiel asked, indicating the armor. If angels were given to the feeling of envy, if they knew how to truly express such an emotion, surely this would be something for them to feel it for. “Did you think me incapable?”

Gabriel scoffed. “Spare me. We both know you could create something that would put any of the others to shame.”

It was true that Castiel had spent an inordinate amount of time studying various designs and attributes of the armor he’d known he’d eventually need. But how did Gabriel…?

Shifting his weight, Gabriel glanced away, only for a moment, but enough to tell Castiel he was uncomfortable. “Look, I like you, all right? You’re a good kid, a worthwhile angel, and you have something in you that not many angels do. Faith like that won’t do anything but get you killed on the battlefield, I’m sure, but…it’s commendable. I’d hate to see that spark vanish.” He shrugged, looking discomfited. “Just…don’t mention it. All right? No thanks necessary.”

Slowly, Castiel nodded. His grace warmed, a smile dancing throughout his whole being, and with conscious effort, he allowed his face to relax, used the muscles necessary to twitch the lips of the face he wore into a small reflection of that feeling. “Understood,” was the only thing he said aloud, but Gabriel would have to deal with the gratitude he no doubt caught as Castiel left his vessel and allowed his grace to brush ever-so-briefly against the archangel’s.

~*~

It wasn’t long after that before they were to fly out to battle. Castiel would not admit that he was nervous, but there was a certain amount of anxiety growing within his grace. He knew he could die, very easily, and his brothers and sisters would be left to mourn his passing, the choirs left to sing in his honor.

He _could_ admit, in the deepest, most hidden parts of himself, that he did not want to. He didn’t fear death, as such…if he was to die, it was because his Father’s plan dictated as much, and it was Castiel’s destiny. He would accept it.

But he didn’t want to. He truly didn’t.

There was a place on earth he found he enjoyed escaping to, when his thoughts were deep and troubled. He hadn't realized anyone else had discovered it until he descended and found the grassy knoll already occupied.

“Gabriel,” he greeted, surprised. Like Castiel himself, Gabriel had chosen not to take his vessel during this excursion, and the brilliance of his true form lit the area around them, bathing it in radiance. His wings were spread wide behind him, appearing one moment as feathers of pure white dipped in gold, and the next as lightning and power and glory, before rippling into cosmos and stardust. The constant changes were a sign of agitation. Castiel’s own shadowed wings twitched in response.

Gabriel’s gaze left the sea of stars above them, stars which had not dimmed with his light but instead seemed to shine brighter, and he looked at Castiel, his eyes glittering with unexpected warmth. “I followed you here once,” he said. “You’ve found yourself a nice spot here, brother. I like it.”

Castiel bowed his head slightly. “I’ll take my leave of you then, and allow you enjoy it.”

“Don’t be stupid, Castiel,” Gabriel said, laughter in his tone. “I’m not stealing your hideaway. Just hoping you don’t mind some company.”

“Of course not,” Castiel replied, and was surprised to find that he meant it. He’d come here seeking seclusion, just for a short time, but now that Gabriel was here, Castiel realized his presence was not unwelcome. He took a step closer to stand by Gabriel’s side, his own grace dim in comparison to the archangel’s. “I come here to think, sometimes,” he decided to reveal.

Gabriel, so much better at expressing emotions the way humans did, smiled a little before it faded from his face and his expression grew weary. “Yeah. That’s why I came. Deep thoughts and all that.” He waved a hand, fragments of light trailing behind it in the darkness of the earthly night.

Castiel hesitated, wondering if he dared to ask Gabriel – his superior in all things and in every way – what it was he came to think about. He’d just decided against such a disrespectful course of action when Gabriel’s eyes found his again.

“You can ask, you know,” the archangel said, smiling another lopsided smile.

“I…” Castiel blinked, looked away. “It is not my place to wonder.”

“C’mon, Castiel, be a _rebel_ ,” Gabriel said, and at Castiel’s shocked, horrified look, he… _nudged_ him. “Only teasing, brother. Curiosity isn’t a sin, you know.”

It was clear to Castiel that Gabriel _wanted_ him to question, so finally he allowed himself to relax. Only slightly. Only enough to ask, hesitantly, “What was it you were thinking of, then?”

Gabriel sighed, yet another human habit he must have learned from his vessel. “I was thinking that I don’t want to have to go out there tomorrow and kill my family. I was thinking that it isn’t fair, being caught in the middle of a war I never asked for and refuse to take sides on.”

“Refuse to…” Castiel blinked again, stepping back half a step. “You mean you won’t help us fight against Lucifer and his army?”

Gabriel’s eyes were tortured. “Michael and Lucifer aren’t just my brothers, Castiel,” he said. “They’re _everything_ to me. I can’t…” He shook his head. “I’ll be there, with you, on the front lines. I’ll protect my garrison. But they can’t expect me to…”

Castiel wasn’t sure he understood, not really. There was no one he felt that particular sort of connection with. He loved all his family, it was true, and it was painful to contemplate the thought of destroying any of them. But to be so close to one specific angel or group of angels…that, he couldn’t understand. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I truly hope it does not come to that, for your sake.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched again, even as his grace dimmed unhappily. “Thank you, Castiel,” he murmured. When his eyes met Castiel’s again, this time they were resigned.

~*~

Despite the long hours training for this moment, when Castiel finally descended into the midst of the battle raging throughout the heavenly planes, it was nothing at all like he expected it to be.

It was _ugly_ , it was _violent_. He’d known, peripherally, that it would be. But _this_ …

There was no honor here, among these brothers and sisters throwing themselves on each other like…like monsters. Screams of the dying rose around him in a mockery of the angelic choirs, and flashes of light seared his eyes each time a grace burned out near him, even though he was unencumbered by a vessel.

His armor glowed faintly, traces of Gabriel’s grace lingering even now, and it caught the eyes of friends and enemies alike.

Castiel didn’t know where to turn, how to move. He was frozen, horrified by the massacre around him. _This_ , then, was what war was? Mindless, heedless, _graceless_ death and destruction, with nothing behind it but anger and hatred, none of the righteousness they’d all been created to serve with?

This was how they expected him to fight?

It was little more than luck that he heard the shout, somewhere behind him, of his garrison leader. “ _Castiel!_ ” Gabriel shouted, and Castiel was spinning, throwing his sword up just in time to block what would have been a crushing blow. He didn’t take the time to study the face in front of him, to figure out if he knew the name of the brother who had just tried to kill him. He shoved, his wings offering him balance and speed, and thrust his sword deep.

In front of him, on his sword, an angel died. That was Castiel’s first kill.

He would never learn the name of the angel.

After that, he forced the distracting abhorrence away, and then it was almost easy to lose himself in the rhythm, the cadence, the _fury_ of the battle. Nothing but chaos around him, yet Castiel fought with purpose and with determination, and he never faltered.

Looking back later, perhaps it would have been easier to face the things he did if he had.

He lost track of the rest of his garrison, and of Gabriel in particular, within only a few moments, and he didn’t find the archangel again until what felt like days later, though it couldn’t have been nearly that long. His grace was still pulsing with focus, and when he saw Gabriel across the battlefield, blocking harsh blows coming at him from two sides and making no move to attack either of them, it was nothing at all for Castiel to wing his way over, to slash through grace and armor, to destroy the threat to someone he was growing to consider a friend.

It was there, his eyes wide and his grace weakened, weariness overcoming him in a rush of overpowering exhaustion, that Gabriel caught his gaze again.

It was there, as Gabriel caught him in his arms when Castiel would have fallen, and lowered him to the ground as the battle slowly tapered off around them, that the second bond was formed.

~*~

Castiel made it a point to watch him, after that. Even in the midst of fighting, with enemies ranged all around him, he always tried to watch Gabriel. It was over the course of the next several battles that he noticed something.

Gabriel never killed.

The archangel, one of God’s Elite warriors, never – _never_ – dealt a fatal blow. He fought with all the power and grace of Heaven’s deadliest weapons, protected his garrison ferociously, watched as every angel around him did their very best to kill each other. He left some angels broken and so weak it would take them an age to recover, if they ever would. Some, the truly fearsome ones, he took their wings, left them trembling masses of bleeding grace on the ground.

But he never killed a single one of them.

Castiel didn’t understand it, but then, he was growing accustomed to being perplexed by this particular archangel who seemed to have…taken Castiel under his wing.

For whatever reason, Gabriel had allowed Castiel to attach himself to him, and Castiel decided that afforded him certain liberties.

Before, he would never have dared to ask such an impertinent question.

Now, on a rare night away from the fighting and the screams and the chaos, he couldn’t seem to hold it back. “Is it because of what you told me?” he murmured, not taking his eyes from the sunrise spreading over the sky above them. “The reason you won’t take another angel’s life in battle?” When Gabriel didn’t respond, he forged ahead, not knowing _why_ , just knowing he had to know the answer. “I know you don’t fear them. We’ve all heard the stories of earlier days, when this war first began, and even before then. You are known as the Angel of Judgment, in some circles. Dealing out death never bothered you then, did it?”

“You ask a lot of questions, kid,” Gabriel sighed. He sat down cross-legged on the ground, propped his chin on one hand and motioned for Castiel to join him.

Cautiously, Castiel did.

“You should be careful, Castiel. Not all of your superiors will take well to being questioned so…thoroughly.” He raised an eyebrow, and Castiel flushed, because he knew that. He knew _better_. Before he could apologize though, Gabriel continued. “And yes. It’s because of what I told you. If I won’t kill an enemy angel who tries to kill _me_ , then…maybe Father won’t expect me to…” His face hardened, and he turned away. “It’s all coming down to a giant showdown between Michael and Lucifer anyway, and everyone knows it. Maybe, when they’ve had it out…maybe the fighting will end, and we can go back to being a family. Peaceful. And until then, if I can avoid trying to kill my brothers…”

Hesitantly, Castiel reached over. He paused, inches from Gabriel’s arm, before gathering his courage and placing his hand against it. Grace flowed between them, Gabriel’s sadness to Castiel’s comfort, Castiel’s unwavering faith to Gabriel’s growing sense of something strongly resembling doubt. “We will get through this, brother,” Castiel said softly, not releasing his hold.

Gabriel stared for a long time at the hand pressed to his forearm, before he seemed to wilt a little, and his eyes found the brightening sky again. “Maybe. But how many others will have to die for us to do so? What sort of justice is _this?_ ”

To that, Castiel could offer nothing, so he simply sat beside the archangel and let the flow of grace between them speak the words he didn’t possess.

~*~

_Castiel opens his eyes, breathing harshly, trembling though the air around him is warm and oppressive now that the afternoon sun is high in the sky._

_It’s been so long, and he’s forgotten – tried to forget – so much._

_But there’s no forgetting the moment you fall in love, even if you were too young and naïve to know the feeling for what it was at the time._

_Dean Winchester would scoff at the idea of an angel being capable of falling in love. He sees most of Castiel’s kind as robots, unable to feel anything, no matter how many times Castiel has refuted the theory. Angels are created from love, they’re made of the stuff, and they, as creatures capable of thought and emotion, experience as many different kinds of love as humans do._

_It doesn’t happen often. In fact, Castiel couldn’t say with any certainty if it ever happened before he fell in love with Gabriel. But it happened then, and once it was done, there was no going back. For an angel, falling in love is forever._

_Or maybe it’s just him._

_It doesn’t really matter._

_The feelings are there, and he’s tried unsuccessfully for so long to block them, but here, now, feeling it all over again like it was that day repeated…_

_It’s too much, and he’s no longer sure if he can do this._

_But for Gabriel…for Gabriel, he’s willing to try._

_A single crystalline tear falls from his eye as he loses himself once more to memory._

~*~

It wasn’t a battle that almost took his life. It wasn’t even a skirmish. In fact, Castiel was resting in the Garden, recharging his grace, when the attack came. One moment, he was alone with his thoughts, contemplating all he’d seen and done, all he was…feeling…

…and the next, there was the sound of wingbeats, and he was spinning around to see who could be interrupting him here of all places, and then…

Castiel didn’t even have time to register the swift death flying toward him before Gabriel was there. A blast of the archangel’s grace tore through the air, and the angelic blade, which should have been nearly infallible, shattered into specks of silvery dust. Gabriel didn’t stop there. In less than an earthly second, he was across the Garden, pressing the attacker – an angel Castiel did not recognize – to a manifestation of a tree, holding him by the throat as he forced the unknown angel to take a shape.

“You _dare_ ,” Gabriel said, grace-infused voice a low growl Castiel had never heard from him before, “to attack one of _my_ soldiers _here?_ Do you not know the meaning of _sacred?_ ”

“I was acting on orders!” the angel responded, but he went limp in Gabriel’s grasp, knowing there was nothing he could do if the archangel was going to kill him.

“Whose orders!” Gabriel demanded, tightening his hold. Castiel took a few steps forward, but stayed silent.

The young angel hesitated, and Castiel could see the fear in his eyes. “I follow the Morningstar,” he finally said. He said it with an emotion Castiel had never heard before from an angel, something that came through clearly even through the fear. He said it with something Castiel thought was _pride_.

The angel was _proud_ to serve Lucifer, who would tear Heaven apart if given half a chance.

If he had tears to shed outside of a human vessel, Castiel thought they would be falling now. Gabriel had released his hold, shock and pain visible in every thread of his grace. “Do you know why he would order such a thing?” he asked, his voice still low, still dangerous.

The angel’s eyes flicked over to Castiel, and then back to Gabriel, and that was all the answer either he or Gabriel needed. Gabriel’s wings unfurled, his sword materializing in a white-knuckled fist, but before he could finish the angel off, Castiel was by his side, guiding his arm down. “No,” Castiel said softly. “No, Gabriel. Not for this.” He looked at the angel in front of them, who was so young, who must have been created nearly at the same time as Castiel himself. His eyes were wide, his grace pulsing with fear. Castiel nodded to him. “Go. Just…go.”

Gabriel took an unnecessary, shuddering breath at the sound of the angel’s quick escape. “What gives you the right to just…” Castiel wrapped Gabriel in his arms, in his wings, in his _grace_ , and Gabriel’s words stumbled to a halt as his own grace trembled. “Castiel…”

“I will not allow you to go back on everything you’ve sworn not to do just because your brother is trying to get you to fight. I am not worth that.”

Gabriel didn’t reply, but he didn’t pull away, either.

Castiel realized he wasn’t the only one who found himself wishing for the ability to shed tears in this form.

Where their graces touched, another bond, this one thicker and stronger, was quietly forged between them.

~*~

“He can read your heart, brother, likely better than you can. You must stop this madness.”

Castiel didn’t mean to come upon a conversation so obviously private, but he was already there, and to leave then would probably alert the archangels to his presence more than staying would. He’d been spending the day practicing hiding his grace, a trick he’d learned from Anael. As a result, he was currently still hidden, but flying would break his concentration, and he was not yet adept enough to be able to do both at once.

Of course, if he got caught, he’d be in a world of trouble. He should have left already, and he knew it. But Gabriel was already answering, sounding angry, and Castiel couldn’t seem to help himself. “You should stay out of things that don’t concern you, Raphael.”

“You are my concern.” The archangel – Raphael – spoke calmly, but there was an edge to his voice that belied his anger, and Castiel shrank back further, trembling. “You are my _brother_ , Gabriel.”

Gabriel scoffed. “For all that that’s mattered these past years that you’ve fought at Michael’s side, slaughtering the rest of your family.”

“Lucifer and his rebellious horde stopped being family the very moment he turned his back on our Father.” Raphael turned away, his eyes hard, wings snapping out in his anger. A flash of lightning accompanied the motion. “There can be no forgiveness for such an act. You would do well to remember that, and to remember who your _truest_ family is. It is not that little _pet_ you seem to have acquired.”

Gabriel’s mouth thinned. “Do not speak of him again, Raphael, or we will see how well my sword still serves me.”

“Lucifer will come for him again, Gabriel. He will come, and he will come, and he will _keep_ coming until your pet is dead. Do not deceive yourself into believing otherwise.”

“Leave, Raphael. Just go.” Gabriel’s tone was weary now, as it so often was lately.

Without another word, Raphael left. Lightning arced across the heavens where he took flight, and Castiel shivered.

“So do I even get a hello?” Gabriel asked, gaze lighting on where Castiel was standing. His eyes widened, and he dropped the cloak shielding his grace.

“How did you –”

Gabriel’s eyes were amused as he came over, stretching his wings so that they caught the light in ways that made Castiel’s grace glow with a longing he didn’t understand. “We spend a fair bit of time together, you and I. If anyone can tell your grace these days, even hidden, it’s me. And let’s not forget that I know tricks you can’t even _conceive_ of.” He…winked. Another of the many bewildering human traits he seemed so fond of.

Bewildering and _maddening_. They were all truly maddening, and Castiel didn’t think he’d ever understand even half of them. His wings bristled for a moment, but then he wilted. “I apologize, Gabriel. I did not mean to…”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “Of course you did. And I let you because you needed to hear it.” His eyes sharpened on the younger angel. “Raphael has no sense of tact, but he’s not wrong. Right now, Lucifer is angry at me for refusing to take part in this fight. For refusing to definitively pick a side. And right now, you’re the first thing he’s seen me…” He trailed off, and Castiel tilted his head, waiting for him to continue. With a soft sigh, Gabriel did, looking away. “You’re the first thing he’s seen me…care about, outside of him and Michael and Raphael and our Father, in a very long time. He’ll use you to try and get to me.”

“He can try,” Castiel said, feeling calmer than he thought perhaps he should be. “But I am not without…tricks of my own.” Shyly, he met Gabriel’s gaze. “And I am not without protection, either. I trust you, Gabriel. And if something should happen to me, I trust that you will not let it sway you into bending to his will.”

Gabriel huffed a breath of laughter, and to Castiel, it sounded somewhat incredulous. “You’ve got a lot to learn, kid.”

That, Castiel did not doubt. Nor did he doubt his desire for Gabriel to be the one to teach him. He hesitantly stretched out a wing, brushed it against Gabriel’s arm. “I value our friendship too much,” he said, his voice low, “to allow circumstances and angels who should stay out of affairs that don’t concern them to dictate to us whether or not we should stay away from each other.” Gabriel’s eyes searched Castiel’s, and the younger angel looked away, sheepish. “Of course, that has no bearing on how _you_ should feel one way or the other, but… _oh!_ ”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, because Gabriel was wrapping him in a warm embrace, grace brushing against Castiel’s soothingly, his voice a low murmur as he reassured the soldier that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he valued Castiel’s friendship too much as well.

Castiel sank gratefully into the embrace and very purposely did not think about how difficult things could become for him with this decision.

Some things were worth it.

And if his grace pulsed too brightly, if something within him quickened at the archangel being so close…

…well, Castiel was becoming adept at not thinking about things, wasn’t he?

~*~

When Gabriel was not with his garrison, which was rare, or with Castiel in particular, it usually meant he was on a mission of some sort. He never talked about these missions, about the messages he delivered or the beings he saw or the things he did. Most times, he came back weary but content to be home. Sometimes though, a heavy sadness would linger in his eyes for long stretches of time. When this happened, he would withdraw to the Garden, and leave Castiel to worry after him.

Castiel was almost never alone, though, and certainly not once since Raphael had delivered his warning. Gabriel had made him promise, and Castiel had acquiesced to his demand with as much dignity as he could manage.

Balthazar and Anael and Uriel were the angels he felt closest to in the whole of the garrison, and they became his friends, his confidants, and, somewhat against Castiel’s will, Gabriel’s eyes and ears if anything, anything at all, happened that was out of the ordinary. The four of them fought together, side by side or back to back, and the bonds of friendship and family between them thickened with each battle.

In Anael, he had a companion, someone he could always talk to, someone who listened and never judged. When they had the time, when the chaos of the war seemed far away and out-of-reach, many times Castiel flew with her, just for the simple joy of her companionship. She was in line to take over as leader of the garrison, should the need ever arise, but she never treated any of them as though they were below her, only ever as equals.

In Uriel, he had an ally, someone he could always trust to have his back, no matter what it took or what he had to do to get there. Uriel was hard on the outside, and seemed cold to many of the others, but Castiel knew it for the shell it was. Uriel had lost many brothers and sisters close to him on _both_ sides of the war. It had been assumed from the beginning that he would join with Lucifer, and there were some on Michael’s side who still wondered about him. It had _made_ Uriel hard, fighting suspicion from all angles. But he was fiercely loyal, and a true friend.

In Balthazar, Castiel had found…a best friend. Balthazar was the one Castiel went to when he had no one else. Balthazar was the only one who knew _why_ their leader was worried for Castiel’s safety. He was the one who stood at Castiel’s side and never wavered, never backed down. With cutting words and nimble wings and tricks Castiel never would have considered, he always seemed able to get them out of any bad situation before it escalated past a point of no return. And when he laughed off Castiel’s thanks with playful banter and witty retorts, Castiel was able to see flickers of Gabriel, who he was surprised to learn had mentored Balthazar before Castiel had ever known either, shimmering in his grace.

But still, always, it was Gabriel himself who Castiel returned to without fail. If Gabriel was with them, Castiel was by his side.

And it was the only place Castiel ever truly wanted to be.

~*~

It was impossible to say for sure how long the war lasted. Time was not measured in Heaven the way it was on earth, and after a while, it all blurred together in a fog of battle clashes and death and chaos, and Castiel gave up trying to keep track.

When the end came, it came without warning, on a day they’d heard of no battles taking place anywhere in Heaven, and it was possible Castiel never would have known it for what it was if Gabriel had not been by his side as they rested in the valley of their favorite place on earth. One moment, they were lying comfortably on their backs, wings spread over the grass, rare smiles gracing both of their features as they indulged in a day of respite…a day away from the near-constant fighting.

The next, Gabriel’s scream tore the fabric of space and time around them, and he was on his knees, bent at the waist, eyes wide and horrified as he struggled to breathe unnecessarily against an attack Castiel couldn’t see. Castiel was in front of him in an instant, his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders, shouting his name though it was clear Gabriel couldn’t hear him.

“No…” the archangel cried, his voice ragged and torn apart and broken. “ _No!_ ” Thunder rolled, and when the first sobs tore their way through Gabriel, the skies opened and rained down the tears he couldn’t shed.

~*~

“He cast him down,” Gabriel said, much later. His eyes were distant, shattered. Castiel didn’t know how to help him, so all he could do was listen. “He threw Lucifer down into that…that _pit_ , that _darkness_ , as though Lucifer meant nothing to us… I don’t… He’d have been better off dead, Castiel.” His eyes closed, his grace quaking with emotion, and Castiel gathered him into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” the younger angel murmured, brushing a hand over Gabriel’s wings in a poor offer of comfort. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel.”

Gabriel trembled against him, burying himself in the warmth of Castiel’s grace, and didn’t speak again for a long time.

~*~

Returning to Heaven, what must have been something like days later, was almost as painful for Gabriel as the last few days had been, though Castiel thought the archangel did a good job of hiding how wrecked he was at seeing the celebration going on around them as they landed.

Gabriel should have gone straight to Michael or Raphael or even their Father. He’d told Castiel as much, that he would be expected to find them immediately and await his new orders. But they’d lingered on earth while Gabriel poured his grief into the ground and shouted his rage to the sky, and now, the archangel didn’t seem at all eager to make amends for the delay.

“What will happen now?” Anael asked him cautiously. She was the first of Castiel’s companions to dare to ask any sort of question of Gabriel, and at the inquiry, both Uriel and Balthazar looked up, waiting intently for an answer.

“I dunno,” Gabriel said with a shrug. Anael looked intrigued by the gesture. The others looked baffled. Castiel shook his head, hiding a fond smile. “The choirs will start singing again, soon. There hasn’t been angelsong in a long time, and my brothers will want to change that. The _celebrations_ –” He spat the word. “– will most likely continue for a time. This is a great victory after all, didn’t you know?”

Gabriel was bitter, and Castiel hated to see it. He caught Balthazar’s eye in misery, and his friend reached for his hand, sending a warm pulse of reassurance that Castiel shouldn’t have needed. He was stronger than this. He _wanted_ to be strong for Gabriel, even if Gabriel didn’t think he needed someone to lean on.

There was a flash of light throughout the Heavens, and Gabriel’s eyes closed on a sigh. “And that will be for me,” he said. He looked at Castiel, who longed to reach out to him but didn’t dare, and offered him a small smile. “See you soon, kid,” he said.

Castiel tried not to hear it as ‘ _goodbye_ ’.

~*~

He flew down to earth alone, just as the darkness of night was settling over the beach where he touched down. Above, the moon glowed, pale and solitary, and for just a moment, he felt like they were joined by their loneliness, before he shook himself from such a fanciful thought. Gabriel had been right, the choirs were singing again, and their songs filled him, bathed his grace with the love of his family, but he’d never felt more alone than he did right at that moment.

He stepped out to the edge of the water and let it lap over the corporeal form he preferred his grace to take. He rarely took a vessel, only if there was absolute necessity, but he thought he would have liked to indulge now. He would have liked to feel the cold water wash over his toes, feel the wind dance in his hair, smell the sea salt and appreciate it the way a human would.

Useless thoughts, and nothing he would ever seriously contemplate. But it was nice to imagine it, if only briefly.

He heard Gabriel’s wings before he saw his grace-light, and he closed his eyes, tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying draining out of him, before he turned to look at the archangel who was somehow, impossibly, here.

With him.

Gabriel’s eyes were steady, lit with grace and power, his wings flared out behind him as he took in the sight of Castiel.

“I…” Castiel took a step forward. “I wasn’t sure if…”

And there was the slow curl of Gabriel’s smile, the spark of life he carried in his eye, the arrogant tilt of his head. “Told you I’d see you soon,” he said. “Have I ever broken my word to you?”

No. He truly never had. Castiel crossed the space between them, tentatively reached out with a dark, shadowed wing to brush against Gabriel’s. Slowly, because he didn’t know if the touch would be welcomed. But Gabriel sighed deeply, and his eyes closed, and he stepped further into Castiel’s space, reached out to twine their hands together.

And Castiel was truly lost.

For all that this – _all_ of this – had been building between them for so long now, they had never dared to act on it, not with the war around them, not with the other archangels watching them so closely. Not with the uncertainty of what a bond like this would bring. Their friendship had been dangerous enough, without adding this element to it as well. But now…

“Gabriel,” Castiel said, questions dancing along his mind that he couldn’t find a way to ask.

_Are you all right?_

_Are you sure?_

_Am I truly what you want?_

_How **can** I be?_

A final step closer, and now Gabriel was pressed to Castiel, his wings folded around the younger angel. “I’m going to give you this,” he murmured, kissing Castiel’s forehead. “I’m going to give you all of me.” Kissing Castiel’s nose. “Because I’ve forgotten how to be without you.” Kissing Castiel’s cheek. “Because I don’t want to _have_ to be without you.” Kissing Castiel’s mouth.

It was so human, even without vessels, but it was somehow the purest, most sacred thing Castiel had felt since his creation.

Angels didn’t love like this.

Then why did _they?_

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter when Gabriel was kissing him like this, when his wings were stroking along Castiel’s, pure grace to pure grace. It didn’t matter when Castiel was already so hopelessly lost in sensation, energy crackling between them, racing along his grace as everything he was reached out to twine with everything Gabriel was.

Gabriel was shifting in his arms, becoming less solid with every kiss, with every brush, until he was nothing but grace, pure energy, _essence_. And then he wrapped around Castiel, brushing against every part of him, asking Castiel to be with him, to _dance_ with him.

Castiel could no more have refused him then he could have refused an order from the Father Himself. Less, even. Gabriel was everything to him, and so Castiel let his form fall away.

They joined together, grace to grace, there on the beach, and it was pure, and glorious, and powerful. It was lightning and fire, it was madness and chaos, it was _perfection_. Castiel let everything fall away, bared himself wholly to the archangel, offered himself to Gabriel, and in return, Gabriel gave himself to Castiel without thought.

Grace-light twined, merged, became one, and in the explosion of light that resulted, Castiel was lost and found, destroyed and re-made.

And the most powerful, most unbreakable bond was forged between them.

~*~

_It hurts. Father, it hurts so **much**. Castiel leans down, sobbing his grief against Gabriel’s chest, desperately clenching his fists in the jacket the archangel was wearing when he died._

_“I can’t do this,” he says, brokenly. “Gabriel, I can’t do this.”_

_He’s been strong. He’s had to be strong for so long, but he can’t keep going, can’t keep **being** strong. He’s already given everything, he has nothing left, and nothing to show for his sacrifices but a shattered home, a family who hates him, friends who still suffer, a world being torn apart by monsters at every turn. _

_And a love who is gone._

_What more is there? If he dies, will that be enough? Will that fix things?_

_It won’t bring Gabriel back._

_Gabriel, who ripped him to pieces and left him to drown. Gabriel, who left him broken in the ruin of Heaven after the first war, who left and let Castiel believe he was **dead** , who left because he was selfish, because he didn’t want to keep fighting._

_Gabriel, who lied to him, tricked him, deceived him in so many ways._

_Gabriel, who still, always, loved him._

_Only Castiel has the power to do this. The memories are like a living thing inside him, greedily eating away at his grace as he lives through them all over again. But this is what’s required, this is the first step, the most important step._

_And only Castiel can do this._

_He lifts his head, calms the rapid pounding of his heart, and watches the trembling of his hands ease as they release their hold on Gabriel’s jacket. He sits up slowly, closes his eyes, takes a breath._

_And forces himself to be strong again._

~*~

“I need to go back,” Gabriel said quietly, nuzzling Castiel’s neck. They were lying on the beach as the sun rose over the ocean, Castiel cocooned in Gabriel’s wings, his own tucked against his back. “I shouldn’t be gone long. I was told I’d have my new orders today.”

Castiel sighed out a soft breath, tilting his head up to steal a kiss.

More human by the day, it seemed, and he was willing to blame Gabriel for how easy he was finding it to slip into their habits more and more. He longed with every breath to take a vessel, to _have_ a human body of his own so that he could experience this even more.

Grace was powerful, grace was all-consuming, and the bright thrum of Gabriel that surrounded him now was as warm and clear and brilliant as it was eternal. But he was sure there was something to be said for warm kisses and pounding heartbeats and frantic animalistic need. He knew only stories, things he’d been told by Uriel and some of the other angels, things spoken of in hushed whispers about how humans acted around their intended mates. Someday…

Someday, he thought he’d like to experience that, as well. It didn’t sound as revolting as Uriel had tried to lead him to believe it was.

But for now, there was this. There was pretending, for a moment, that angels kissing was normal. There was the slow curl of grace against his own as Gabriel’s lips moved with his, as his hand curved over Castiel’s hip and his wings brushed down Castiel’s back.

Gabriel smiled into the kiss, huffing a small laugh. “Kid, you sure know how to make leaving difficult,” he said. “I’ll be back. Like I promised.” He darted in for one last kiss, even as his grace stroked along the new bond forged between them, and Castiel shivered at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Be fast?” he asked, unable to hold it back.

Gabriel nodded, his eyes sparkling as he stood and stretched his wings. “Of course,” he promised, and then he was gone.

Castiel smiled, and allowed himself to bask in the wonderful sensation of this new connection between them.

If things had been different, perhaps he would have sensed when things began to go horribly wrong. If the bond had been older, if he’d had more time to explore it and learn the ins and outs of navigating it. If he and Gabriel had been equals in power, and the bond more equal because of it. If he’d had even the slightest clue that things could spiral downhill so quickly after they were supposed to be getting better.

But as it was, he didn’t know enough to feel it when it happened.

He didn’t know enough to understand it when Gabriel lost the last of his faith.

~*~

Afterwards, he would only be able to at least say that Gabriel kept his promise to return. He all but tumbled back down to earth, so soon after he’d left that it felt almost immediate. He flew to where Castiel was waiting for him, and fell to his knees beside the angel.

It was his eyes that Castiel noticed first, and that was what made Castiel drag Gabriel swiftly into his arms. Gabriel came unresisting, and the bond flared between them, but…it was wrong.

It was _lifeless_. As lifeless and as cold as Gabriel's eyes, usually so full of light and laughter. This wasn’t the archangel Castiel knew, this wasn’t the Gabriel Castiel _loved_. Something was so wrong, so very, very wrong…

“Gabriel…?”

Gabriel raised his gaze to Castiel’s, twisted his lips into a parody – a _mockery_ – of his usual smile, and Castiel fought not to pull away from the horrifying expression. He tentatively felt along their bond – so new, so unfamiliar to him – and hated that that gave him no clues either. It was as though Gabriel was deliberately blocking him, and he couldn’t understand _why_.

It had only been a few hours, and the archangel had been so happy…

“I’ve gotta go, Castiel,” Gabriel finally said, drawing away. It was like a physical pain as Gabriel moved out of reach. Castiel could only stare, confused and frightened. “They gave me my new orders, and I can’t…I can’t…”

“What orders, Gabriel? Who gave them to you?” Desperate for answers, for _any_ answers.

Gabriel seemed to fight to compose himself. He closed his eyes, drew himself up as he stood. When he opened them again, he didn’t look at Castiel, but stared out at the ocean, his gaze glassy and withdrawn.

“Well, they’re certainly not from our Father,” the archangel said, and Castiel, who had just started to stand, fell back a step, shocked to his core at the deep resentment in Gabriel’s voice. “He’s left Michael in charge, entirely and for an undefined amount of time. Right now, Michael’s giving the orders.” Castiel shook his head, unwilling to believe it, and Gabriel smirked humorlessly. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. Even if it were Him telling me to do this…”

“Telling you to do _what?_ ” Castiel finally demanded, his hands clenched at his sides. Wind whipped around him, his desperation bringing about the gales, and he forced himself calm, as calm as he could be in the circumstances, without knowing what was happening.

Gabriel’s jaw clenched, and he still – _still_ – wouldn’t look at Castiel. How could they have this conversation if he wouldn’t _look_ at him?

_Gabriel, don’t do this… Please, please don’t do this…_

When Gabriel finally spoke the words, there was such hopeless, bitter rage in his voice, and something in Castiel clenched, because whatever that tone meant, it couldn’t be anything good. “I’ve been ordered to bring the rest of Lucifer’s supporters to justice. I was at least given the option…I can either kill them, or throw them down into Hell with their leader.”

The soft cry of despair tore from Castiel before he could even think to block it. To kill his brothers…it was more than orders, it was _punishment_. It was the one thing Gabriel would never do, the only thing he’d stood for through so many countless years of war. But if he’d been ordered… “You can’t say no. If you do…”

“If I do, I’ll be considered no better than they are,” Gabriel whispered. “Michael gave me a single earth day to decide where my loyalties lie.” His eyes were already tracking the sun’s slow descent toward the water. “Castiel…”

Castiel stepped forward, a current of grace running up through the hand that he placed on Gabriel’s shoulder, flowing into the archangel through the bond they shared, but it wasn’t enough. Castiel could see that it could never be enough. Whatever Gabriel was going through, he’d already closed himself off to Castiel’s help. “What do you need, Gabriel?” he asked anyway, though he knew there was nothing he could give, nothing Gabriel would allow him to do to try and fix this.

“I have one night of peace,” Gabriel murmured. “I don’t want it to be without you.”

They flew to their spot, on another part of the world, where darkness had already claimed the land. Castiel clung to Gabriel under the stars as though he could keep the archangel by his side and safe though the sheer force of his will.

They didn’t speak throughout the night. And when morning came, and Castiel awoke to the realization that Gabriel had put him to sleep on purpose, he fought the terror that wormed its way through his grace, the innate knowledge that no matter how hard he looked, he wouldn’t find Gabriel still on earth.

The archangel was gone.

~*~

Heaven was silent.

Word had traveled fast, and it was as though every angel in the Host was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen.

It had been a very long time since any sort of rumor about an archangel had been so widespread. It made Castiel’s grace quiver and ache, made him feel _sick_ inside.

_Gabriel…where are you?_

No answer was forthcoming for three days, and if Michael or Raphael knew what was happening during those three days, they certainly didn’t let on to anyone else.

Balthazar kept a careful eye on Castiel, probably to make sure he didn’t do anything foolish, though Castiel wouldn’t. He would stay safe, stay hopeful for Gabriel’s return. And what _could_ he do, without knowing where his bondmate was? He should have been able to find him anywhere, but Gabriel was adept at hiding, and Castiel was not practiced enough to follow the trail. He’d fought in a war, earned the title of soldier, but that wouldn’t help him here, now.

He was all but useless.

So he waited, and he prayed, and he waited some more.

At the end of the third day of waiting, there was a flash of light so intense, it brought the Host to its knees, and a roar of devastation shook the foundations of the heavenly plane. Had Castiel been paying any attention at all, he would have recognized it as Michael, would have heard the grief in the archangel’s voice even from the distance that separated them.

But Castiel was not paying attention. Because just before the light, just before the call to the Host, he had felt the bond – _their_ bond, so new and so intense and so precious to him – _snap_. And a bond like that breaking, _any_ bond between angels breaking, could only mean one thing.

Gabriel… _his_ Gabriel…the Messenger, the Angel of Judgment, the _archangel_ …was dead.

Castiel was swept away on a wave of heartache and anguish, and he tried, desperately, to drown. He thought maybe he screamed, had vague recollections afterwards of his brothers and sisters swarming to his side, trying to help him, but they were too close, too close and it was all too much…

There was another blast of light, he thought, and then Michael was there, or he thought it was Michael, though he’d never met the eldest of Gabriel’s brothers, and the unknown angel reached out to touch him, and he couldn’t back away, couldn’t escape the way he needed to…

All went silent and dark and blissfully numb.

~*~

For a long time after that, all he could remember was darkness.

Darkness, and torment, and pain so deep it felt as though his grace had been shredded.

If Castiel had known what it meant to kill oneself, he surely would have found a way.

~*~

Time passed.

He grieved, and his grief seemed endless, infinite. Few would go near him during this time, fearful of him, fearful of what he’d done, what it all meant. There was no comfort to be had, though later, he thought perhaps Balthazar and Anael, and even Uriel, in his own way, tried.

Castiel spent most of the time doing what he’d always done best… _learning_. He learned to lock himself away, to take all of the emotions Gabriel had taught him to feel and shove them to some deep part of his grace where they could not reach him. He learned to _stop_ feeling, where before, he’d fought so hard to learn _how_.

He continued to do his job, because though the First War was over now, it was clear that angels would have to continue knowing how to fight. The knowledge was there, now, not something they could all just forget. Someday, they all knew, they may need to fight again.

So Castiel continued to train. And he became the best, most determined soldier in his garrison.

Anael took over the leadership, and Castiel didn’t begrudge her. Wouldn’t have even if he’d been able to feel enough to feel _resentment_. She was a friend, she was loyal, and she’d earned the right to the position. She treated them all fairly, and continued to take Castiel flying with her when she could.

Castiel could no longer appreciate the companionship the way he once had, but he appreciated her efforts all the same.

They never went back down to earth. Castiel refused to go near his Father’s creation, could not bear to even gaze down upon it the way he once had. He turned his back, and let other angels take the missions that would have allowed him to walk amongst humanity once again.

Eventually, Anael made him her first in command. It was not a duty he wanted, nor one he felt worthy of, but he did not tell her no, only worked that much harder to become deserving of the position.

In essence, the more time passed, the more Castiel became the very thing that Gabriel would once have hated. He became nothing more or less than a warrior of Heaven, who would go wherever and do whatever he was ordered, without fail.

He did not question, he stopped _caring_ enough to question.

He was so alone, so very alone, with a hole blasted out of his grace that was too large to fill. The only escape he had, the only _comfort_ he had, was to do God’s will.

So that’s exactly what he did.

~*~

Looking back on it, Castiel would perhaps have noticed Raphael’s anger much sooner if he hadn’t been so caught in his own black haze of sorrow and loneliness during that first bleak passage of time. As it was, though, he failed to think of Raphael at all until the archangel had him backed into a corner, pressed against a wall with a sword to Castiel’s throat and murder in his eyes.

“You killed my brother, little angel,” Raphael said, his voice a disturbing calm that was belied by what would have been insanity in the eyes of anything _other_ than an angel.

“I did not,” Castiel replied, his voice a growl. He wouldn’t say the name, he _wouldn’t_ say it. “I wasn’t even near him when it happened, I didn’t even _know_.”

“If not for you, and for whatever _unholy_ connection existed between you, Gabriel would have been by our side, his _rightful_ place with his _true_ brothers.” The blade pressed deeper, slicing through grace, setting sparks ablaze through Castiel’s essence, adding to the agony that cut through him at Gabriel’s name. “I don’t know what you did to him, but rest assured, I will find out. And I will avenge him.”

“Whatever you think I did,” Castiel gasped, his wings quivering, the hardness leaking out of his voice as fear fought to take hold, “I promise, it was never my intention to harm him!”

“Your existence was more than enough,” Raphael growled, but he stepped back, let his blade vanish back to the ether. “Do not doubt it, little angel. My brother is dead because of you. Whether you lifted the blade yourself makes no difference to me. You are at fault, and I _will_ prove it.”

With a crackle of lightning wings, Raphael was gone, and Castiel was left trembling on the ground, knowing that the archangel was right, wishing he’d just finished the job.

It took him a long time after that to be able to bring back the calm, desolate place he’d carved for himself, took much longer to rebury his emotions.

But after that incident, every time something happened to bring them back, he started to get faster at it.

Eventually, he almost stopped feeling everything altogether.

~*~

_Even now, remembering a time when he’d felt so dead inside, remembering how dimly his grace had burned, how much he’d wanted to die…_

_It’s enough to bring back some of the calm, some of the blankness he’d learned to lose himself in so easily. His eyes are closed, his breathing even as he reaches for it, as he allows his thoughts to mellow before they can become too much to bear._

_He can get through this._

_He can._

_But then his eyes open, and Gabriel is still lying dead in front of him, and this is worse…so much worse…because while he’d believed with all his heart, with all his **grace** , that Gabriel had been dead then, he’d never been forced to face it. Not like this._

_**Never** like this._

_A single crack in the miniscule shield he’s managed to build for himself through these most painful memories causes the whole thing to collapse, and Castiel is left – again – shuddering and sobbing on the ground, his grace rending itself in two. “Why,” he cries to the heavens. “Father, **why?** ”_

_But God never answered then, and he won’t answer now, and Castiel is on his own with this as he’s been with so much else throughout his very long life._

_This is pain that he bottled up for too long, that he held back for millennia. And he can’t anymore. He can’t be allowed to, if he wants this to work._

_He needs to embrace the pain, own it, feel every bit of it that he hadn’t allowed himself to before._

_He doesn’t want to. He knows pain, has felt all the worst parts of it and then some…and this is brutally, **impossibly** worse. For a resurrection that may not even work, for a reunion Gabriel may not even want._

_He lies down next to Gabriel’s body, lies over the remnants of what were once beautiful, powerful wings. He curls himself into the archangel, lays his head against Gabriel’s breast. Buries his face in what’s left of the only being he will ever truly love._

_It’s not over yet, not **nearly** over._

_But little by little, as he sobs out the anguish he’s carried around for countless years, Castiel begins to heal._

~*~

There were moments, over the next several hundred years (by Castiel’s reckoning, though it was especially difficult to know for sure when he did not pay attention to earth as well as he perhaps should have), when Castiel could swear he still felt Gabriel.

For the most part, he was able to put these moments down to… _wishful thinking_. He longed for his mate, craved Gabriel’s return no matter how impossible he knew it to be. Even in the midst of his despairing numbness, he would always crave Gabriel’s touch, the feel of the bond that had flowed between them for so brief a time.

Some moments were more difficult to set aside, and required intense focus to try and forget about after they happened.

Angels could not lose their minds, but somehow Castiel wondered if he’d come close enough to falling from grace that he, perhaps, could. Angels had never been meant to love as he and Gabriel had, and perhaps it had broken something inside him. Perhaps he wasn’t enough of an angel anymore to be safe from insanity.

There was a moment, not long after being faced with Raphael’s anger, and before he’d learned to perfect his mental defenses, where the bond had flared, so bright and familiar and wonderful that for a moment – a single perfect moment – Castiel had forgotten that it couldn’t be real. Couldn’t _possibly_ be real. There had been a flash of panic, a pang of desperate longing…

…and then the world had righted itself, and whatever bit of Gabriel remained within him had been gone again, nothing more than the briefest of flames, snuffed out before it ever really had a chance to burn.

Another moment, another flash of time, decades, maybe even centuries later. Castiel was in the Garden, a place he did not frequent often, speaking with Joshua. Joshua was not an archangel, but he was as respected as they were, if not more so. He had a… _calm_ about him, one which was impossible not to find some comfort in. It was one of the reasons Castiel avoided him these days. Castiel did not want calm; he wanted oblivion.

But Joshua had called him here, and when he spoke to Castiel, he placed a hand on his arm, and for that moment, Gabriel had been with him again, warm against his heart, there as though he’d never left…

…and Castiel had fled that place, and hadn’t looked back to see Joshua’s pained expression, hadn’t looked back to see his pity or his compassion. Hadn’t set foot near the Garden again for a very long time.

Moments, so many moments and not nearly enough and all Castiel ever wanted was for them to stop, but they never did.

They never did.

Another, many centuries after the war, and Castiel was finally able to look upon the earth without that terrible ache eating away at him from the inside. He still avoided it, still begged Anael not to send him down, but he could look on it, and see the people, his Father’s favored, and remember _why_ they were beloved, how much they had to offer. He watched them as they moved about their lives, watched as they laughed and cried and danced and courted and, sometimes, as they perished. He looked deeper, and saw one of the families that was for him, one of the bloodlines that would allow him to walk among them.

It was nothing more than a desperate hope that had him wondering if he could find Gabriel’s, but when he looked and found that the bloodline meant for the archangel had died out long ago, the darkness threatened to press in on him again. _What did it matter?_ he wondered, because Gabriel was gone, Gabriel would never have the chance to take a vessel again, and Castiel shouldn’t be watching this, should have looked away and gone back to his duties before he allowed his emotions to take control again, and he couldn’t, he couldn’t do this, he’d sworn…

…but it was the warm soothing caress along the bond, the bond that didn’t exist anymore, that finally, briefly settled him.

More moments, as he watched the so-called gods that moved among the unsuspecting humans, preying on them, using their weaknesses against them. There were many, and most of the angels didn’t seem to care, but Castiel watched them anyway, and so he briefly caught sight of one that seemed different. The one that only seemed to set sights upon those humans who were not bound for Heaven, the humans who preyed on their kind as easily as the monsters among them did. This god came after them, and for a moment, just a moment that forever after Castiel would deny he’d ever had, the angel felt a brief flash of _respect_ for the heathenish being…

…and it was _surprise_ that wavered along the bond, so harsh and unexpected that Castiel cried out before it vanished, as swiftly and surely as the startling feelings always did.

Yes, Castiel often wondered if he was the angel who had lost his mind.

But he never mentioned it to the others, and if they suspected, they never let on either.

~*~

_Castiel doesn’t realize his skin is glowing for a long time. His eyes have been closed as he presses himself against his fallen brother, as tears slide relentlessly down his face, and in his grief, he’s failed to notice the brightness against his eyelids is not coming from anything in the room itself… It’s coming from **him**._

_What he’s doing…it’s working. Oh, Father, it’s **working** , and he’s unprepared for the way his heart starts beating so frantically at the knowledge, for the way his grace lights up and expands, for the overwhelming **hope** that fills him._

_There’s still so much he has to get through, so much left to relive, but he knows now that there’s a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel, and that makes all the difference in the world._

_He can get through the rest. He can make it through the memories, the good and the bad and everything in between, and he can make it through what comes after._

_This is going to work._

_Gabriel is going to come back._

_What happens from that point…_

_Well, Castiel doubts even his Father knows that._

~*~

It became clear, eventually, that the angels were planning something, or at least the angels a bit higher up on the celestial ladder. There was an unfamiliar hush throughout the Host, all of them waiting for something they didn’t entirely understand, on the brink of something Castiel wasn’t sure they truly wanted.

He didn’t know what it was. And to be honest, he was fairly sure he didn’t want to.

~*~

Anael had been acting oddly. Anael was always a little different, a little… _stranger_ than the other angels, and their garrison in particular. But this wasn’t Anael’s normal odd personality, this was something else.

She was quiet, had been getting slowly quieter for a long time now, but something had happened that had made her go nearly silent as she watched the earth rotate below them. Something had changed, something within her that made her wings tremble and her eyes go glassy and far away.

It had scared Castiel, because Anael was a friend. But she hadn’t acted as though she were in trouble, and when he tried to talk to her, she simply waved him off with something resembling a smile and said that she had things she had to think about.

Castiel had been sure these things had to do with whatever the higher-ranking angels were talking about behind closed doors. He’d been sure that, whatever it was that had Anael so twisted up inside, it must have been something she’d been told, or ordered to do.

Later, he would all but hate himself for being so wrong.

Anael had always watched earth more than most. Her fascination with humanity was almost legendary, and she was well-versed in taking vessels when the need arose for an angel to go down for whatever reason. She was always the first to volunteer, and if her missions always took just that little bit longer than they perhaps needed to, none in the garrison were ever going to say anything.

They were loyal to each other, always.

But still, with her almost unnatural predilection towards their Father’s favored, Castiel perhaps shouldn’t have been surprised when she did what she did.

When she _Fell_.

Nevertheless, _surprise_ was not a strong enough word for the cold shock that roiled through his grace at the news, for the way he felt almost ill as he staggered away to a place he could be alone.

It wasn’t just the horrible _wrongness_ of her act, not just the disgust for the way she would allow her essence to alter with such finality, for the way she would take for her own this gift of _free will_ that their Father had never meant for _them_.

It was the pang of knowing that she was gone, that she was out of his grasp forever. It was the knowledge that he had so few he could trust, so few who had any idea of who he truly was, and slowly, he was losing all of them.

Gabriel was the first. Now Anael. He wondered who would be next, and his grace curled in on itself at the thought.

~*~

Castiel did not argue, when Zachariah was given command of the garrison, though he wasn’t a fan of the angel and didn’t think the rest of them were either. Zachariah was pompous in a way no angel should have been, downright arrogant even. He didn’t strive to be worthy of God’s love or blessings, because he seemed to feel that they were his _right_ , that whatever purpose he had been created to serve had already been accomplished by his simple existence.

In truth, Castiel could almost have said he hated him, except that angels weren’t supposed to feel hatred any more than they were supposed to fall in love.

He closed that thought off before it could even begin to take hold, and then he closed off the unwelcome dislike of the elder angel, and then he forced himself to be the soldier he was supposed to be, and do everything he could to follow every order Zachariah gave him.

Zachariah never acknowledged this struggle, though he did seem genuinely amused every time he saw Castiel, every time he stopped him and forced Castiel to speak with him. Like Castiel’s dislike was something he enjoyed, rather than something that angered him.

It took several years to discover that in reality, Zachariah had already found a way to get his revenge.

“Our Father has a mission for you, Castiel.”

Those were the words that were the beginning of the end, though Castiel couldn’t possibly have known it then. Fate was being set in motion, destinies mapping themselves out in ways only God Himself could ever hope to understand, and Castiel was only a pawn in a much larger game.

And even if he’d known that much, he didn’t know enough of the game to know that sometimes, pawns were the most important players of all.

“Of course,” was all Castiel said then, as he bowed his head in acknowledgment. “What is it you require of me?”

Zachariah watched him, his mouth twisted in something between a grimace and a smirk. From what Castiel had been able to determine, Zachariah wasn’t a fan of humanity. Despite that, he wore their expressions with ease. Especially the more distasteful ones. “Before I tell you about this mission, I feel that I should remind you that it is your _duty_ to obey any order given to you. You understand that, I trust?”

Castiel ignored the shiver of unease that crept along his wings. “I understand,” he said. “Of course.” Because how could he not? Angels were created to serve, and any orders given were the will of their Father.

“Hmm,” Zachariah sighed. “Because the last angel who tried to disobey a direct order… Well, you remember.” He smiled pleasantly. “He got himself killed for the trouble. As I hear it, one of those he was to cast judgment on did the deed himself, and without a hint of remorse of course.”

Castiel stood frozen, his expression wiped clean though his whole being cried out in agony. _How dare you! How **dare** you speak of him as though you have the right!_ But he’d never say the words aloud. “What are my orders, _sir?_ ” he asked, almost a growl.

And with a slow-curving smile, as distasteful as the rest of this so-called angel was, Zachariah told him.

~*~

Castiel took to his mission with nearly frightening intensity. He prepared himself in every way possible. He meditated in the Garden, charging his grace as much as he could, ignoring the way Joshua stared at him with such sadness. He donned his armor, armor he hadn’t worn in longer than he wanted to remember. He accepted that for the first time since the war, he was about to go into a battle he wasn’t sure he had the power to win.

It did not scare him that he wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to. In some ways, death would be such a welcome release.

But he would do everything in his power to do as they’d asked him to. Because he’d been told. A single, precious human soul, one that was pivotal to the fate of the world, was depending on him to succeed. A soul who was being used as an instrument of fate, a soul who was being used by the demons to start something that was not meant to be started now.

If his Father wanted him to battle the armies of Hell to raise this soul from perdition, then no one on earth or in Heaven was going to stop Castiel from doing exactly that.

And if he didn’t survive the battle…

Well, at least he’d know he gave it his best.

And then he could perhaps be at peace.

Against his grace, the armor Gabriel had created glowed bright and warm, and Castiel turned away from the part of himself that wanted to find comfort in it.

~*~

He didn’t go alone.

In the end, there were six angels with him. Only two were brothers he knew well, angels from his own garrison, and they greeted him with grim smiles and determined eyes on the day he was to leave. The other four were not strangers, but they were as close as it was possible for any angel to be. He knew their names, their chosen faces, but beyond that, he had never spoken with them. Still, there was a camaraderie amongst the entire group as they observed each other and acknowledged the near-impossibility of their task.

A task they _could not_ fail in.

A new day was dawning over the gate they were to descend into, and Castiel, the leader of this mission, a responsibility he’d never wanted and wished he didn’t have to take, gave a single nod.

Together, they flew.

Getting into Hell was the simple part. The gate was closed, but angels had power others did not, and opening it for long enough to sneak through was easily accomplished. It was unguarded, and for the first part of the journey, they could all but forget where it was they were going and what it was they were doing.

None of them, of course, _would_ forget. None of them were so irresponsible, especially with a task so important set before them.

Still, in the beginning, there were only shadows and sadness lingering in the air, none of the darkness they knew they’d face eventually. Not even the cries of the damned could reach them yet, and Castiel took a moment to gaze around at his companions. Just a moment, just so he wouldn’t forget. Just in case.

They traveled deeper.

The sulfur began to tickle at their senses, a smell truly grotesque, made worse because they knew what it entailed, knew it meant they were getting closer. They rounded a corner on wings that were swift and silent, and that was the first mistake.

There was no warning, just fire and agony passing over him, over all of them, and Castiel couldn’t hold back a cry as it rippled and flared across his wings. He fell to the ground, rolled, tried to gather his bearings, and watched in horror as the pack of demons descended on the smallest angel in the group.

He fought hard, and killed three of them, but he was no match for them all, and while the others were still disoriented from the speed and brutality of the attack, he was torn to shreds. Castiel yelled a command, his voice rough, and the rest of them gathered their wits and tore into the remainder of the horde.

It was over quickly, but not quickly enough, and already an angel lay dead.

That was how it began.

Much of what came after, Castiel would never be able to recall in great detail. Blurs of colors, a rush of terror, pain and heat and misery pressing down on him, beating him senseless, and it was all he could do to keep moving, to remember his goal.

After that first attack, he could no longer fly. His wings were damaged beyond repair, smoking, tattered shreds of anguish, burned away and bleeding and every step was an exercise in torture, but he forced them, forced each one, regardless of the pain. His body longed to rest, his throat choked on the cries that craved release, but he kept going, kept himself silent.

There were other attacks…indeed, they never seemed to _stop_. One by one, his companions fell, but he stopped seeing them, stopped allowing himself to feel their deaths. There would be time to grieve…time to _regret_ …later. He _had_ to find the righteous man, or all of this was for nothing.

The righteous man was the only thing that mattered.

He kept going.

By the time the demons had him surrounded, he was delirious, all but using the pain as a drug, tricking his body into believing it was what he needed to continue taking each step. His grace was fading, his mind losing focus with every inch he gained, and he was alone. Alone, and easy prey, and he lost count of the greedy black eyes he could feel watching him as he staggered to a halt and fell to his knees.

His armor, ever-glowing with that bit of archangel grace, illuminated their faces, their essences, and Castiel wanted to turn away in disgust. They were hideous, twisted mockeries of what had once been his Father’s purest, most beloved creation. This, then, was what Hell was for. This was what Hell did to those trapped in its cavernous depths.

He’d never known. He’d never known the torment Lucifer and the rest of his fallen brethren truly suffered.

A sob, faint and fractured, clawed its way out of his battered throat, and a prayer whispered from cracked, bleeding lips up to a Heaven that was out of reach.

_Father, I tried._

_Father, forgive me._

_Gabriel. I love you._

He didn’t remember when the first demon attacked, only that shards of agony were suddenly slicing into his grace, and he thought perhaps he screamed. If he screamed, he knew he screamed for Gabriel, and his last coherent thought was the knife-twist of knowledge that the archangel wasn’t coming, would never come again, and then everything lost all meaning.

There was pain, always pain, sharp and desperate and greedy, claws raking into him on all sides.

There was laughter, high-pitched and terrible, nothing like the only other laughter he’d ever known.

There was darkness, pressing in and closing around him, shadows that grasped for his grace and begged for his surrender.

There was a song, a voice, a battle-cry, familiar and ferocious and beloved.

There were screams, and flashes of light that held no meaning, shed no understanding.

There was softness, a gentle touch, a brush of feathers over his wings.

There was a whisper, an _I love you_ against the very fiber of his being.

There was a press of grace, a release of pain, a demand that he be more careful, and by the time his eyes finally opened again, by the time he was free to move on and finish his task…

There was nothing but an empty corridor and the memory of something pure.

He would not – _could not_ – think about what had saved him.

Not yet.

With renewed vigor, and the niggling voice at the back of his mind that kept him focused, kept him on his task, he found the soul he searched for, a soul as broken and bloody as any of the others Castiel had encountered in this place, but one that still pulsed with light, one that still craved redemption.

Castiel folded his arms and wings around that soul, poured all of the love he’d ever felt for humanity into it, and flew it as far and as fast from that place as he’d ever flown anywhere in his entire existence.

With care and compassion and curiosity, he rebuilt the body. With gentleness, he soothed the soul at his side and bound it back to its human form. With tenderness, he pressed a kiss to the man’s forehead, willed him to understand when he awoke. With trepidation, he left the man there to rise on his own, to breathe new life into reformed lungs, to experience this new beginning that destiny and fate and God and Castiel had granted him.

With regret, he returned home to wait.

And to wonder.

 _Dean Winchester is saved_ , he told his superiors as he flew, and within moments, the words rang throughout the Host.

~*~

He tried not to dwell on whatever had happened to him in Hell. He tried not to remember the light, or the warmth, or the words he could swear he’d heard whispered to him. He tried not to wish, fervently, that it had been anything more than a pain-induced hallucination brought on by those who’d known what would hurt him the most. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that if it had been anything, it had been his Father, that it had been God’s way of telling Castiel he approved of him, loved him, was proud of him.

He did not succeed on any count.

~*~

The last time Castiel had taken a vessel, it had been with Gabriel by his side, and it pained him more than he cared to acknowledge to be forced to do so now, for this human who’d seemed so ungrateful, so _hostile_ , since his return from the bowels of Hell.

But he was, as ever, obedient to the will of his Father, and his Father wanted him to watch after this man, wanted him to mold Dean Winchester into the righteous man he already was, wanted him to make sure Dean Winchester would be ready to fight on the side of Heaven.

Castiel knew, now, that Heaven was readying for a war against Hell. He knew that the denizens of Hell were plotting to raise their Lord, raise Gabriel’s brother. He knew that Dean himself had unknowingly set this in motion, with the breaking of the first seal. He knew the guilt the eldest Winchester already faced for the things he’d done while in Hell, without even having knowledge of the seals yet, or even of Lucifer himself.

He knew, above and beyond everything else, that Lucifer _could not_ be allowed to rise. The first war had been a long time ago, even to those with a life and memory as far-reaching as his own, but too much was still too fresh. Lucifer would not rise, because Castiel would not allow the sacrifices that had been made during that war to be for nothing.

He _refused_.

And so he spoke with his vessel, a man of faith who granted him the permission he sought. He slipped in, took hold of the body as he’d been taught so very long ago. Brutally blocked off all sense of human feeling and emotion, because it wasn’t necessary to his mission, and he didn’t want to _feel_. Feeling would only lead to heartache, and he couldn’t afford the distraction.

With his mission in mind, he went to where Dean waited with the intention of doing all that he could to make sure the righteous man would do as he was bid, and help Castiel to stop this new war from ever happening.

He did not expect Dean’s obstinacy, or his anger, or his disbelief. He _did_ expect Dean’s fierce love for his family, but he did not expect the almost violent loyalty that love inspired.

He did not expect to find himself… _liking_ Dean, for all those reasons and more.

Bright eyes and a familiar smirk danced in his memory, and he pushed away the knowledge that, yes, Gabriel would probably have liked this man as well.

~*~

With the taking of a new vessel, Castiel was stationed on earth full time, barred from returning home until he was granted permission from his superiors, whenever they were successful in either stopping or winning the war that was brewing.

Castiel refused to call what he was feeling resentment, and then refused to admit he was feeling anything at all.

He took Dean as his charge, a duty he would have wanted for his own whether or not Heaven had demanded it, and they hadn’t, not really; there was a difference between _guiding_ and _protecting_. Though he couldn’t be there at all times, couldn’t… _perch on his shoulder_ …he found he _wanted_ to protect Dean. It was something he _could_ do, something that gave him a new sense of purpose outside of simply _obeying_.

It almost hurt him, having to show Dean the past. Needing to show him the truth about his parents, and the truth about his brother, _Sam_. If there was one thing that defined Dean Winchester, it was his loyalty to his family and his brother especially, through any hardship. It was a trait Castiel admired because he’d only seen it so strongly in one other being before. And even as his grace ached at the thought, he smiled at it. Just a little.

And prayed that Dean’s loyalty to his brother would be better rewarded than Gabriel’s ever had been.

~*~

He failed to realize what was happening until it was too late to stop it. In watching over Dean, in allowing himself to grow attached to the human, to enjoy the things that _made_ him human, Castiel had opened himself up to everything he had spent millennia successfully blocking off. Everything Gabriel had taught him, everything he didn’t want to know anymore.

He began, slowly, to _feel_ again, in ways he couldn't simply pretend away. He _liked_ Dean, he _feared_ the war that would come if they all failed, he _despaired_ at watching the distance grow between the Winchester brothers. He _missed_ Gabriel, with every breath he took, with every beat of his vessel’s heart. The last was nothing new, but it was more powerful now than it had been in so very long.

He was grateful, at least, that it did not take Heaven long to send other angels to earth, and soon enough, Uriel was by his side again. He wished they could have Balthazar with them as well, but Zachariah was clear that Balthazar’s duties were in Heaven. Orders were orders, and Castiel let the longing pass, tried not to miss his closest friend too much. Uriel, at least, was a friend he trusted at his back, someone he knew would keep a clear head throughout their mission here.

~*~

As first meetings went, Castiel thought the one between himself and Sam Winchester should have been in better circumstances. He was edgy, and his newest orders had him thinking things he had no right to be thinking. _Questioning_ things he knew better than to question. So when Dean walked into the motel room with his brother, it was not, perhaps, the best time for Castiel to be confronted with the darkness that surrounded Sam Winchester.

Sam Winchester, who had more faith in God and His angels than many others who claimed to be true believers. Sam Winchester, who had spent his life fighting for the greater good, just as his father and brother had taught him. Sam Winchester, who hated the darkness inside himself more than anyone.

Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood.

Castiel did not see him as the abomination many of his brothers and sisters did. It wasn’t Sam’s fault, and anyone with eyes could see how pure his soul was where it wasn’t being choked by that sulfuric taint. Still, Castiel was wary of him, and with how he was feeling about so many other things in the moment they met for the first time, he thought he could have tried for a better impression.

And it certainly didn’t help Dean’s demeanor when he met Uriel. Nor, of course, when Castiel was forced to tell him why they were there.

One thousand two hundred and fourteen people resided in this town.

And Castiel was talking about destroying all of them.

Alongside his own… _doubts_ , because they truly couldn’t be called anything else no matter how much the word shamed him, and alongside Dean’s bitten off, “Haven’t you ever questioned a crap order?”, there was something else that niggled at him. A small part that wondered how Gabriel would have reacted to this plan.

He told Dean to have faith, that the plan was just.

But he was never sure if he believed it.

And even when the seal was broken, when Dean's plan failed, when Lucifer was that one step closer to freedom…

…Castiel could not regret Dean’s decision.

On a park bench in a small human playground, surrounded by his Father’s most wondrous creation, Castiel was more honest with a being than he’d been since the last time an archangel had stood at his side. “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” he asked, and barely waited for Dean’s nod before continuing, because he had to say it, had to be honest this once, about this one thing, with someone who could maybe – _maybe_ – understand, even just a little. “I’m not a…hammer, as you say. I have questions, I have _doubts_. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore…”

Dean didn’t answer him, didn’t offer him any clarity of mind, and Castiel did not really feel better for saying it. But he wasn’t being honest for himself, and he wasn’t being honest for Dean.

For the first time in a long time, he was being honest for Gabriel.

And he had to believe that Gabriel, at least, would have approved.

~*~

With more than six hundred seals available to any of the hundreds of demons roaming the earth, too many were breaking, and they were breaking faster than Castiel and his brothers and sisters could get a handle on.

With every failure, his despair and his determination grew, both in equal measure.

He feared to find out which would win, in the end.

~*~

The demons found the massive oak tree first, and it was one of their number, a loathsome creature known as Alastair, who first realized what the tree held, what the significance of such purity meant. But the demons didn’t have the power to use it, and so it was Uriel who laid claim to the grace, Uriel who drew the light of Anael’s essence out of the living miracle it had created, and who then bottled it and told their superiors.

No matter what Castiel knew, no matter how he understood that it was the right thing for Uriel to do, it was difficult not to see this as a kind of betrayal. Anael had been his friend, but she’d also been Uriel’s. No matter what she’d done, or how far she’d fallen, or how blasphemous her actions were, it didn’t seem right that Uriel so easily forgot that.

And once it was obvious that she had, in fact, survived her Fall, of course they were given orders to find her and bring her to justice for her crime. Castiel would have been a fool to expect anything different.

And yet.

Seeing Dean’s face, when the hunter – who was protecting the fallen angel – realized why they were there... It resonated deeply with how Castiel felt, with how much he _didn’t want_ to do this thing. Dean’s bitten off, “You’re some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?” It _hurt_ , those words, seeing that look. Hurt in ways Castiel didn’t understand, ways he’d never felt before. And it was worse, knowing he couldn’t do anything to deny it.

He would never let on to how grateful he was, when some part of Anael awoke within the girl now known as Anna, and found the key to sending them away. It was painful, being forced from the earthly plane back to the heavenly one, and it left him and Uriel dazed and shaken, but for a few more moments, she was safe.

It felt like as much a betrayal to want her safe as it did to be seeking her destruction, and once again, Castiel was left without the slightest idea how to handle these conflicting, _confusing_ emotions.

Castiel was angered by Uriel’s tactics in retrieving Anael’s location after that. He didn’t feel the other angel had the right to threaten to throw Dean back into Hell. _No one_ had that right except for Castiel himself, and Castiel knew he would never actually do it. And then, for Uriel to go into Dean’s dreams, something Castiel wouldn’t even have considered, and using Sam against him…

This was not a righteous thing they were doing. How could it be, with such measures being taken?

Still, it worked. And when Castiel was finally face-to-face with Anael again, when all the questions, all the _whys_ and the _hows_ and the _how could yous_ were right there, waiting to be asked, the only thing he could say was, “Hello, Anna. It’s good to see you.” All he could offer, through his own regret, was, “I’m sorry.”

When she told him that he didn’t know the feeling, he thought perhaps he hated her, just a little, because he _wished_ , so deeply, that she was right.

He wished he’d never begun learning how to feel again.

 _No you don’t_ , something inside him whispered, a voice he tried to ignore. _Don’t ever think that._

He breathed out, steeled himself to do what needed to be done.

There was a moment, a hush, a _warning_ deep within…and he was turning to the threat before the presence of the demons even truly registered.

The short period of time that followed would be something Castiel would spend _too much_ time later trying to make sense of. His bitterness at his failure to burn Alastair from the demon’s chosen vessel…his fear as Alastair tried to expel him from _his_ …his relief, and gratitude, and wonder, as Dean saved him from the demon’s grasp…his elation when Anael took back her grace, and the demons were swept – or burned – away…his frustration at Uriel’s attitude after the battle was over.

So much, so many things to feel and not enough ways to hide the feelings as they took hold, and he didn’t know how much longer it would be before he simply cracked in half from the pressure.

 _Gabriel…_ he thought, savagely. _Damn you for doing this to me. Damn you for ever **showing** me this way of being._

~*~

Dean finally told his brother about the things he’d experienced in Hell. He told Sam about the torture, and the pain, and the horror, and the deep, bitter guilt.

He told Sam that he wished he couldn’t feel anything.

Castiel, watching from where they could not perceive his presence, understood all too well.

~*~

The thing about the capture of Alastair weeks later was that Castiel didn’t know how he’d known where the demon would be. It was some strange instinct that had him scouting the town, some sense of foreshadowing that led him to determine _that_ particular seal, at _that_ particular time, with _that_ particular demon. A stroke of luck, except that Castiel didn’t believe in luck.

Still, Alastair was captured, the seal was saved, and Castiel was a small step closer to ending this so that he could eventually go back home.

He longed for Heaven, where he could stay in solitude for a time, re-learn to close himself off. Try to again forget about this constant ache in his chest. Try to again forget the memory of Gabriel’s voice, which kept interrupting him when it was least expected and even less desired (though secretly, always, desperately craved).

Home sounded very, very good, these days.

~*~

_Castiel shakes his head, frustrated with himself even now. He’d been so very blind, so very **naïve** , and that was why Gabriel had gotten away with what he had. That was how Gabriel had stayed hidden for so long, tapping into their bond when it suited his purposes to do so, and never letting Castiel guess that all the feelings, all the tugs on that bond, were because Gabriel was alive the whole time._

_He hadn’t known any better, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’d been downright **moronic** for just accepting things at face value for so long. He was – had always been – smarter than that._

_Except where Gabriel was concerned, because thinking too deeply about the archangel, his bondmate, hurt too much._

_It was easier to ignore it, easier to turn away from the signs, or to put them down to God's work._

_He sighs, runs a hand once more through Gabriel’s hair, letting the silky strands wind through his fingers as he continues to pray._

_As he continues to remember._

~*~

Castiel was not surprised when the order came from Zachariah that Uriel was to have command over him for the remainder of their mission on earth. Really, it had only been a matter of time. Castiel’s feelings were too clear, too obvious, for the other angels not to notice. They were dangerous and could – already _had_ , in fact – lead to doubt.

An angel who doubted their orders was useless to his or her garrison.

So no, Castiel wasn’t surprised, but he was angry, alarmingly so. He did not doubt Uriel’s capabilities, but he did have his suspicions about how the other angel truly felt about humanity. And that intolerance was just as dangerous as _doubting_ was. It was going to lead to trouble.

And then there was Dean. Dean Winchester who, despite everything, despite every wall Castiel had ever built around his heart, had somehow wormed his way in and become someone _important_ to Castiel, not just as a pawn of destiny, but as someone he wanted as a _friend_.

Castiel wanted to be able to trust Dean. Not just have faith in him (there had never been any doubt of his faith in the Righteous Man), but to _trust_ him, with his thoughts and his fears and his pain.

Watching how Uriel treated Dean, and watching the way Dean’s eyes went cold and blank when he was told what was required of him now that they had Alastair, and then watching how his hands trembled as he wheeled his tools – instruments of torture – into the room with the one who’d taught him to use them…

It made Castiel long to reach out and comfort, in ways he hadn’t wanted to do in so long.

Once again, he cursed Gabriel’s name, and harshly blocked out the voice inside telling him to _feel, Castiel. **Let** yourself feel. Let yourself have a true friend. You can’t rely on the Host, but him…him you can rely on. **Him** I trust._

He didn’t love Dean as he’d loved Gabriel. He would _never_ love another as he’d loved Gabriel, nor did he want to. Once bound, a grace was not meant to be unbound, and though it hurt every moment to know his mate was gone from him forever, there was no part of Castiel that wanted to replace him.

But though the love was different, it was no less real, and Castiel could no longer ignore it. He deeply cared for Dean Winchester.

In the end, though, it wasn’t enough. It seemed his love was _never_ enough to protect those he gave it to.

His guilt over Dean being hurt was far greater than his guilt for his inevitable fight with Uriel, or for watching Anael destroy their traitorous friend, or for allowing her to escape again after it was all over.

He chose not to dwell on what that said about him as an angel.

~*~

His guilt, and the pull of friendship he felt, was such that when Dean came to him for help weeks later, when he asked Castiel to aid him in stopping something the prophet named Chuck had seen of his brother’s future, in stopping _destiny itself_ , Castiel did not hesitate.

He gave his help willingly, knowing that it would likely be his undoing.

~*~

They lost another seal, and then three more, and Castiel began to suspect. There were many seals, and many courses of actions the demon known as Lilith could be taking to break them, but things were falling her way far too easily. It seemed that every seal that broke, broke because the angels who were supposed to be protecting them were being sent to other parts of the globe, to other seals, right before they were most needed.

 _You know this isn’t right_ , the voice in his head whispered. _You know what they’re doing. Admit it, Castiel. Heaven is corrupt, and you **know it!**_

He did. Father help him, he did.

He tried to go to Dean for help, as Dean had come to him.

He never made it that far.

~*~

_Castiel sits up, then hunches over as his mind balks at being forced to keep going. Only for Gabriel…_

_Only for Gabriel would he ever willingly relive the memories of the prisons in Heaven. Only for Gabriel would he allow himself to recall the torment he suffered at the hands of his brothers._

_Only for Gabriel…_

~*~

The first thing he learned, as his wings were bound and he was forcibly dragged back to Heaven, was that Balthazar was dead.

Balthazar, his best and truest friend, had died in this war of the angels’ creation.

Balthazar had died for _nothing_.

Castiel thought that everyone from the highest archangel to the lowest cherub probably heard his scream of rage in that moment. But none acknowledged it, as he was shoved into the prison that had gone unused for most of his life. None came to help him, as his grace was torn apart again and again and again.

None came, and slowly, Castiel lost hope that anyone at all cared anymore.

As they carved into his grace, they spoke to him. They whispered promises, dark promises that angels shouldn’t have been capable of making. They told him if he’d only give in, if he’d only trust in his Father again, they would let him go back to his mission. They told him that it was his destiny, to help bring Paradise to earth.

They told him it’s what Gabriel would have wanted of him.

They told him that if Paradise came about, Gabriel could be with him again, their Father would reward Castiel for his services by bringing the archangel back.

They told them that if he _didn’t_ do as he was bid, they would make sure he forgot Gabriel ever existed.

And always, _always_ , they continued to tear him apart, and break him down, and rebuild him back from scratch, and physically, it was almost the most painful thing Castiel had ever endured, beyond every horror of Hell, and the only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that he had survived worse.

He had survived losing his bonded, was the _only_ angel he knew of to have ever endured that.

It meant they could break him, but they couldn’t destroy him. They couldn’t mold him into what they wanted. Not this time, not when he barricaded all the deepest, most hidden parts of himself behind a wall and locked it tight, made it that they could never, ever reach it.

Still, he was in that place, cut off from everything he cared for on earth, for what amounted to decades, though on earth it was only a few days. Until they sapped him of his will, until, battered and bloody inside and out, he allowed the part of himself that _wasn’t_ hidden and locked away to believe their poisonous words, to succumb to their re-education. And when he was finally allowed to go back, he was not entirely what he'd been.

He could never be that angel again, and in that moment, he believed that could only be a good thing.

~*~

He released Sam from the panic room, allowed him to go to the demon Ruby and partake of the blood and power she offered him.

He tricked Anael into meeting with him, only to dispassionately hand her over to his superiors.

He forced Dean’s promise to obey his Father’s will, and that of the angels his charge hated so intensely.

He became the perfect soldier, and he did it while gritting his teeth and remembering what they’d told him. It was God’s will. It was Paradise on earth. Those who survived would have peace. Castiel would have _Gabriel_.

He believed.

He believed right up until Dean forcefully broke down the wall he’d forgotten erecting around those parts of him that knew better, and as the barricade crashed down, Gabriel’s voice in his mind finally broke free.

_Stop them! Help him! You’re out of time, Castiel!_

Castiel flew faster than he ever had before, but he still was not fast enough. And as Raphael tore into him with all the might of Heaven, all he could think was that he had failed. He had failed himself, and his Father, and his friends, and most of all, he had failed Gabriel.

~*~

_There’s no part of Castiel that remembers being dead, which he supposes makes sense. When he’s honest with himself, there’s no part of him that **wants** to remember. Death, for an angel, is complete. It is all encompassing, there **is** nothing more after._

_For a being as old as Castiel is, the idea of not existing in **any** form is terrifying. Once, he knows, he did not fear death. But time and feelings and emotions have made him all too aware of what it really is, and the truth is not as honorable as he’d once believed as a young, naïve angel first learning the ways of battle._

_He knows that his resurrection was nothing short of a miracle. Even now, knowing what he now knows about that resurrection, what he hadn’t known then, it’s still a miracle. Perhaps even more so._

_It shouldn’t have been possible._

_But it’s also the only reason that he knows what he’s attempting **is** possible. That what he’s doing is **going** to work._

_He presses a shimmering hand to Gabriel’s cheek, and realizes in that instant that the archangel’s deserted skin is beginning to softly glow as well._

_For the first time since this began, Castiel **smiles**._

~*~

When he came back, the voice in his head, his one lasting, strongest reminder of Gabriel, did not come back with him. Through waking up in Chuck’s living room, through the prophet telling him all that had happened in his brief absence, through tracking down the brothers Winchester, through killing his own brothers and threatening his superior, through cutting himself off from the Host as completely as it was possible to do without pulling his grace out…

There was only a stubborn, suspicious silence, and while he never thought he would _miss_ that painful reminder of his bonded, he was self-aware enough that he could admit he did.

Desperately.

He ached as though he’d lost Gabriel all over again, and in some ways he supposed he had. Even if it had all been his imagination to begin with.

~*~

Lucifer was risen, and Castiel was scared. For himself, for his friends, for the earth and the people who lived there, for the safety of his home, even cut off as he was, and for those angels who didn’t yet understand.

He prayed to his Father with every breath, and though he was never given an answer, he decided the best course of action he could take was to go and seek one himself.

If prayer hadn’t worked, perhaps a face-to-face confrontation would allow God to see the truth of what was happening. Perhaps, by some miracle, Castiel could sway him to stop all of this.

Dean thought it was madness, and Castiel wasn’t surprised. He, too, wondered if he wasn’t grasping too hard at options that were not truly viable. But faith was all he had left, and he believed, with every fiber of his being, that this had to be what his purpose was. He lashed out at Dean in defense, blaming Dean for a failure to stop everything that, in his heart, Castiel really blamed himself for. Though he felt guilty for his words after, he did not take them back, because if they did nothing else, they showed Dean that he was serious. He had faith, and he was going to use it to find his Father.

God had brought him back. No matter what else happened, he had that.

God cared.

So Castiel gathered Dean’s amulet, a precious commodity that would help him know his Father if – _when_ – he found Him, and his grace, so fragile now that it was beginning to drain away like so much sand in an hourglass, and began his search.

~*~

_You killed my brother, little angel._

_You killed my brother, and now I will have my vengeance._

The last words spoken to him before his death and subsequent resurrection, a mirror of words spoken so long ago, when grief and despair had been a blade stabbing through his grace. Words more painful, more damaging, than any weapon the archangel who spoke them would ever carry.

From the offset, Castiel knew that his first step in his mission to find his Father should have been finding one of the few angels who had been closest to Him, and he knew that one of them, at least, was walking the earth. But the memory of Raphael tearing him to pieces was still fresh in his mind, and he was afraid.

Raphael had promised retribution for Gabriel’s death, and he’d had it. But Castiel did not think it would ever be enough to temper the archangel’s anger.

It took him two weeks to channel his fear, his desperation, his _faith_ , into his own bright anger. Anger he would need to survive this ordeal, if he had any hope of surviving it at all.

He went to Dean for help, mostly because if he _was_ to die again, he did not want to die alone, and also because thoughts of Raphael brought harsh, bitter memories with them, and Castiel couldn’t afford to lose himself in those memories, not now.

Dean was his friend. Even when suffering his own hurts and betrayals, even after Castiel had been unnecessarily harsh the last time they’d spoken, he was always Castiel’s friend. Knowing that, seeing the evidence of it, boosted Castiel’s confidence in his own abilities, made him feel more prepared for this confrontation he wasn’t sure he could ever really be ready for.

That frame of mind was very nearly shattered when the subject came up of Castiel’s plans for what could very well be his last night on earth. Out of grief and a desperate need not to let his mind go to that place, he didn’t tell Dean of his connection to Gabriel, of the one and only time he’d ever ‘ _had occasion_ ’ to ‘ _do a little cloud seeding_ ’, and the rest of the night was spent putting on a show for Dean’s benefit, keeping the hunter’s spirits up and keeping his own mind free from darker ponderings.

By dawn, he was as ready as he could hope to be.

_"I'm here, Raphael. Come and get me, you little bastard."_

~*~

But face-to-face with Raphael, every wall Castiel had erected around his heart and his mind tumbled down around him, and the words that were spoken between them became nothing but a blur of fragmented thoughts from the moment Castiel asked where God was and Raphael's mouth replied with, "Dead," and his grace replied with, "just as your precious Gabriel is."

All there was after that was a litany of _Gabriel, my beloved Gabriel, my fault, **my fault** , Raphael was right, please, God, let this end, need him, **Gabriel!**_ and a less articulate prayer that God _was_ there, that He _was_ alive, that Raphael _had_ to be wrong. Castiel’s resurrection couldn’t have been Lucifer’s doing, it _couldn’t_ be…

It was a look to Dean, a look that reminded him of what he was fighting for and _why_ he was fighting for it, that brought his thoughts back to some semblance of order with a mighty effort. He blocked Raphael’s words, blocked the archangel’s influence over his thoughts. “Let's go,” he growled to Dean.

“Today, you’re _my_ little bitch,” he told Raphael just before they left, just before he _left_ the archangel _trapped_ in a circle of holy fire. And for the first time since his creation, since his first run-in with Raphael, since Raphael’s promise to prove Castiel responsible for Gabriel’s death…

…For the first time _ever_ , Castiel felt strong in the face of one of his greatest fears.

Raphael would not get the best of him again.

~*~

"What do _you_ believe?" Dean asked him, with Raphael's words still ringing harshly in his ears and his faith hanging by a thread.

He thought, long and hard, and finally gave the only answer he possibly could. "I believe He's out there."

"Good," Dean said, and to Castiel's surprise, he thought the hunter meant it. "Then go find Him."

Dean was going out of his way to help keep Castiel's faith intact. Who was Castiel to turn away from such a gift? He took what Dean offered him with a gratitude he would never put words to, and went to find his Father.

~*~

There were a few things Castiel learned about himself, during his seemingly endless search.

He learned that, without the connection he’d always felt to Heaven and to the other angels, he was lonely in a way that was almost debilitating. He had never been particularly close to most of them, and with the few close friends he’d had either dead or otherwise incapacitated, he wouldn’t have believed he could feel the absence so strongly.

But there was no angelsong in his heart, no warmth flooding his grace. He was no longer tuned in to what the Host was saying, and he no longer had a hold on the comfort of _home_.

He was one small angel, lost and alone and steadily losing his grace because he had nothing to keep it charged without the love of Heaven.

The loneliness was not just a loss of his connection to Heaven, either.

While he checked in with the Winchesters as often as he could, and even came across them once or twice when his search overlapped with their hunts, for the most part, he had no one to talk to, not a single friendly face as he continued a search that was proving ever fruitless. Once, he may have relied on his memory of Gabriel to keep him going, but that wound was still raw in all new ways, and whatever the voice in his mind had given him once was gone now.

Even the soul he once shared space with in his vessel, the man named Jimmy, had been lost to him, his soul left to rest in Heaven since the day his body had been torn apart by Raphael.

Mostly, Castiel was alone in every way possible.

He also learned that, even cut off as he was, even bleeding grace with every spread of his wings, with every purging of a demonic presence, even with the whole Host out for his death or capture… He still loved his family and his home desperately. He still longed to protect it from Lucifer and anything else that may seek to harm it. He still longed to see the Garden again, to know that it was still a sacred place for any who sought its peaceful sanctuary. He still longed to know that his brothers and sisters, those same angels who charged at him with deadly blades and angry faces, were safe.

Each time he was forced to kill another angel, it was like stabbing himself, and it never got easier. He reminded himself that he had to, if he hoped to see the end of this war, if he hoped to have at least most of the Host survive intact.

Even if he himself was never allowed to go home again, he needed to know it was _there_. That it was safe.

He also learned that God was _not_ infallible. He made mistakes, just as every father did. It took some time, but slowly, Castiel began to find signs. Nothing particularly helpful, nothing that could lead him to a given point on the map…but _proof_ , at least, that God was here, or had been. Proof that He’d walked the earth for a time, a _long_ time, and that He’d hidden away from anyone who could know Him for what He was.

These signs kept Castiel going more than anything, kept him _believing_ that he was on the right path. God had been here, and maybe He didn’t want company, maybe He didn’t want to deal with the fallout of His children’s antics, but if He was still alive – and Castiel _knew_ He was – sooner or later Castiel was going to find Him. And then He would _have_ to face it. Face _everything_.

Until then, Castiel would keep going. Keep _moving_ , keep searching as fast and as frantically as he could, because it was _all_ he could do now.

~*~

He was working a lead close to the Sahara desert when he got the call from Bobby that Dean and Sam had gone missing.

If only he’d known what was waiting for him down that road, he would have perhaps been far less eager to search them out. Far more cautious to enter the Trickster god’s colorful illusion.

But he couldn’t have known, and he was not as cautious as he should have been. And because of that, everything he’d ever come to know in his entire life was fractured, nothing left but the fragments of a broken menagerie of deceptive truths and oil-slick lies.

~*~

He wandered the illusions with an odd sense of familiarity. It wasn’t that he knew the settings – he’d never had a reason to really watch human television, and as near as he could tell, that was what they were modeled after – but _something_ gnawed at him, something that made his chest ache. Something in the energy, something about the being that had created all this.

A Trickster, he’d been able to judge from the notes the Winchesters had left in their motel room. One of the Old Gods, and one that they were apparently familiar with. Following its trail had been child’s play, but now that Castiel was here, it didn’t add up. Demigod or not, the illusions were too real, too bright, too _powerful_ , almost enough to keep Castiel himself trapped if he wasn’t careful, and even with his grace failing, that shouldn’t have been possible.

By the time he found Dean and Sam, he was perplexed and angry, and all he wanted was to leave this place, and leave this god to his ridiculous idea of _fun_ until Castiel could come back at a later time and try to understand, or at least take care of the problem himself.

But he’d no sooner found them than he felt a pressure against his grace, a tugging sensation all around him. He had just enough time to tell them they’d been missing for days, to step forward with the intention of getting them out…

…and then he was transported, locked away in a deeper illusion and left to face a veritable _army_ of angels.

Real or not, he was suddenly in what felt like a desperate fight for his life, and every breath he took was spent searching for cracks in the trickery, for any way to pull himself out and away from this madness. Sword in hand, he hacked and slashed and fought his way past things that looked and felt like his brothers and sisters, and it was _that_ that made him wonder. Made him _question_.

Because even if the Trickster had stolen this illusion from Castiel’s mind, this attention to detail couldn’t have been paid without firsthand knowledge of the beings he was creating.

And as Castiel found the chink in the illusion he’d been searching for, as Raphael – or something that looked like him – came forward with blazing eyes and bright sword and dealt a glancing blow to Castiel’s vessel just as he was pulling himself out, he shuddered to realize that this was his proof.

This was no Trickster at all.

This was an _angel_.

~*~

With that knowledge in mind, he was more desperate than ever to find Sam and Dean, to warn them, to do whatever he could to get them away from the clutches of whichever of his brothers or sisters were doing this. There was no time for explanations. If he wanted them to remain safe, he had to move fast.

And he did. He found them far more quickly the second time. He told them he got out. He told them the thing that had trapped them was too powerful. He told them it was not likely to be a Trickster.

And just as he was opening his mouth to tell them what he thought it was, he was thrown backwards, dropped to his hands and knees and silenced.

Silenced so completely that when Gabriel walked through the door, the agonized cry of disbelief stayed buried deep inside. When the archangel turned to him with a bright, sharp smile and a false-friendly greeting, the tortured sob was never released.

And when Castiel turned back to the Winchesters, a desperate plea on his tongue as his heart tore itself into pieces, it was never voiced.

Gabriel, his once friend, once lover, once _bonded_ , waved a hand…

…and Castiel knew no more.

~*~

_An existence is defined by moments. Some are wonderful, joyous. Some are heartbreaking, soul rending. Some will change the shape of a world, and others will remain quiet, private._

_Castiel has had many such moments that have shaped him into who and what he is. Nearly all of them relate, in some way, to the archangel by his side._

_None have ever come close to meaning what that one single moment, when Gabriel appeared before his eyes again, means to him. Nothing will ever match the depth of simultaneous devastation and exultation in that single breathless second. Nothing will ever again change him so deeply, so intrinsically._

_He was broken in that moment, his life pulled apart and rearranged to cast light on the lies that had made up his universe for so long. A puzzle that was missing so many of its pieces._

_It cut so impossibly deep then, and it still does now._

_But for all the pain it brings with it, his memory of that moment is still one he cherishes most._

_Gabriel was alive, and knowing that made it worth the heartache._

_Gabriel has **always** been worth it._

~*~

The next time Castiel became aware again, he was being pulled back from wherever Gabriel had sent him while he was unconscious. He appeared in a warehouse by Dean's side, facing his…

Facing Gabriel.

There were no words to describe the betrayal he felt as he stared at the archangel trapped in a ring of holy fire. Nothing he could have said, or asked, or demanded that could have possibly made it better. And still, all he wanted was reach out, gather Gabriel close, hold him, and never, _never_ let him go.

But he couldn't.

He _wouldn't_.

All he could do instead was brace himself, gathering his grace as he drew his vessel to its full height. Inject his voice with every bit of agony the archangel had caused him as he growled, "Hello, Gabriel."

A smirk. So familiar, so painfully, horrifically familiar. "Hey, bro."

 _Is that it?_ Castiel thought furiously. _Is that all you have to say to me?_

Gabriel's eyes glinted. "How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. _Awful_."

 _You don't get to do this, Gabriel. You don't get to take this from me as you've taken so much else. I won't let you._ Castiel didn't need to project the words with his voice to know that Gabriel heard every one.

When Dean said they were leaving, Castiel turned away with him and Sam, would have been content to leave Gabriel there for eternity. The bond flared sharp and sudden in his chest, Gabriel's control over it lessening in his panic at the thought of being trapped, and Castiel caught just the slightest hint of what he was feeling for a brief second. It wasn't enough. Could never be enough to understand, to come to terms, to _forgive_.

He wanted to stop Dean from setting Gabriel free, but he didn't dare, couldn't face the questions that would come with it. It didn't stop him from taking cruel pleasure in the expression on Gabriel's face at Dean's words.

" _This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family!_ "

Truer words had never been spoken.

Castiel held Gabriel's eyes for as long as it took the fire to die, and then he left, this time without looking back.

~*~

It took Gabriel a week. Castiel knew he would come, sooner or later, for one reason or another. When Gabriel finally did, Castiel had done all he could, building up his defenses and praying for the strength he needed to get through the meeting intact.

After all, how many more times could he be broken before there was nothing left to put back together?

Gabriel came at night, while Castiel meditated in a place from his vessel's memories, a garden in Europe that almost, in some very small ways, reminded him of home. When Castiel felt the air change with the archangel's presence, he opened his eyes, stared up from where he was sitting cross-legged. Looked into Gabriel's eyes.

And they _were_ Gabriel's – Castiel could see right through the amber irises to the grace that lay beneath. This vessel Gabriel resided in had been built, not taken. Gabriel had crafted himself a way to hide, to survive. It was ingenious, a perfect way to be sure the Host never found him, so long as he was careful about the ways in which he used his grace.

Father, but they were all fools. And Castiel the biggest fool of all.

"What do you want, Gabriel?" he asked, standing fluidly.

Gabriel arms were crossed, his jaw tight. "To put a stop to your madness before it gets you killed, preferably."

Castiel grit his teeth and stood firm. "I won't ask why you care, because it's clear to me that you don't. I don't know why you are so bent on destroying the one chance we have, but –"

"God didn't bring you back," Gabriel said, so sudden and so sharp that for a moment, all went perfectly silent.

"What do you mean?" Castiel's voice was hardly even a whisper. He knew he should turn away now, should fly and not look back, before Gabriel could poison his thoughts and slaughter his faith, but now that it was there between them, he had to know.

"It wasn't Dad." Gabriel's eyes cut toward the ground, his gaze fierce though he seemed unable to direct it Castiel's way. "It was me. Just like it was me who put those mooks of yours on an airplane before Luci could do real damage. Not Dad, you idiot. _Me_."

It knocked the breath he didn't remember taking from his lungs, had his vision darkening, had him swaying with shock. Such human reactions, and some small, peripheral part of him worried about what it meant of his dwindling grace before he shook himself from those thoughts and refocused on the matter at hand. "Why –" He stopped, took a new breath. "All along, you were there, you were trying to…"

" _Help_ ," Gabriel muttered. "I was trying to _help_ you bastards, and look what it got me."

"What it –"

"A slap in the face and a reminder of why I left in the first place!" Gabriel was shouting now, his fists clenched and his eyes flashing with grace. Something in Castiel's chest, where the bond has always quietly resided, tightened, and his heart beat frantically at his ribs as the archangel went on. "For the first time in so long, I had hope! I had _faith_ in _you_ , and you failed, Castiel. You failed!"

It was nothing Castiel didn't already know, but hearing it aloud, hearing it from the one being in all of Creation who owned Castiel so completely, even now…

Gabriel looked away again, reigning himself in before Castiel's eyes. "It's done, Lucifer's free, and Dad isn't coming to stop it. So my advice? Back off, let Him be the deadbeat He is, and enjoy what time you have left before it all comes crashing down around you."

"The same as you've been doing all these years?" Castiel shook his head, his heart aching. "I think not, Gabriel. Unlike you, I fight for what I believe in rather than running away, and I protect those I love rather than abandoning them." He couldn't help the way the bitterness crept into his voice, nor could he help the guilt he felt at Gabriel's flinch. "I stopped needing you a long time ago, Gabriel. The next time you want to bestow advice, save it for someone who wants it. We're done here."

"Castiel –"

" _We're done_."

And then he flew, as hard and as fast as his tattered wings would carry him.

~*~

After that night, Castiel stayed close to Dean and Sam while they tracked down the demon called Crowley, the only lead they had on the Colt that could possibly kill Lucifer.

They didn't question his motives in offering his help, and he certainly never offered an explanation. How could he tell them that he felt like he was drowning, that everything he'd believed had been torn away, that his faith – once bright enough to sustain the whole of his grace – had dwindled to embers? How could he tell them that they were his lifeline now, when everyone else he'd ever cared for had abandoned him?

But more than once, Castiel felt Sam's eyes on him, carefully dissecting him in that way only the youngest Winchester possessed. Sam obviously knew something was bothering him, and chances were good that Dean did as well, even if he was less obvious about it, but so far neither of them had asked.

Castiel was grateful.

Though he knew now that the bond between he and Gabriel did in fact still exist, whole and healthy and as bright as it ever was beneath the layers Gabriel had used to smother it, he never tried to touch it. Never tried to uncover it, or reach across it. Gabriel had closed it off a long time ago, had sealed it tight at Castiel's failure, and it wasn't Castiel's place to try and change that now. Even if he'd wanted to, even if he'd thought he had the right, he wouldn't have known how. So he let it be, and tried to come to terms with the knowledge that Gabriel did not want him, had not wanted him for many, many years. There was no way to break the bond, but Castiel would do his best to give Gabriel the escape he so obviously wanted from it.

And when only a few days later found him standing face-to-face with Lucifer, when the Devil was looking into his eyes like he could see every imprint on Castiel's grace, he was intensely relieved at his decision. That Gabriel would never know how he died, that his bonded would never have to face knowing who it was that killed him.

No matter how Gabriel had changed, or what he felt for Castiel now, Castiel did not want him burdened with that knowledge.

A " _peculiar thing_ ", Lucifer called him.

Perhaps he was right.

~*~

Lucifer didn't kill him.

Castiel never felt Gabriel's presence; his escape was anything but simple, his grace was proven to be further dwindled than he'd realized, and two people he'd only just started calling friends died before he and the Winchesters finally made back it out of Carthage, but still, he wondered.

In the privacy of his thoughts, he questioned.

~*~

Time was passing, and Castiel was beginning to feel it in ways that made him distinctly uncomfortable. His faith was giving way to nothing more than hope, and he didn't know how long it would be before even that was gone. He was no closer to finding God now than he'd been when first beginning his quest, and he was Falling too rapidly to make sense of anything anymore.

Anael's return, something that should have brought him joy and a renewed sense of purpose, only brought with it more deception, more sorrow, more betrayal. A trip to the past completely incapacitated him while his friends fought for their lives, and the return trip back to the present left him dangerously weak for days. He discovered he was susceptible to the power of the Horsemen, and to the base desires of the body he wore, the body that was, for all intent and purposes, his own now. He failed to help the Winchesters when they needed it most, and he watched their willpower slowly begin to crumble as a result.

He didn't know what to do, how to continue, where to keep moving. For all that he'd learned to make decisions for himself and to fight for what he believed in, right now he was as lost as a newborn babe.

And Time, fickle as it was, would not slow enough for him to find his way.

~*~

The first time Castiel heard the whispers, he thought nothing of them. He'd been all over the globe, had heard rumors of all kinds of beings taking advantage of the apocalypse. One more false god among the hordes made no difference, and asking questions, he'd learned, would only lead to trouble. In any case, unless it directly related to his own search, he didn't have the time to worry about it.

Except that it wasn't just once, and along with the name _Loki_ , he began to hear the word _trickster_ being bandied about. It gave him pause. Made him wonder, against all his better judgment.

 _Death came for the town_ , he heard, _but they were all saved, down to the last man. He came, and he saved them, and he called himself Loki._

 _He snapped his fingers_ , one woman told him, _and rivers that had run red with blood for weeks were suddenly crystal clear, and the first few sips tasted of fine champagne._

 _Demons came in the night_ , the girl whispered, _and Loki fought them off with a sword that glowed in the moonlight._

And even the darker mutterings, among the not-quite-human population. _Who does he think he is, this trickster who will bring the angels down on us all? What right does he have, calling himself a god?_

It was too much to hope for, but some small part of Castiel began to hope anyway. One tiny flash of light in the darkness that was otherwise consuming him, but maybe it would be enough. Maybe…

~*~

It wasn't enough.

~*~

"Maybe Joshua was lying." A desperate, grasping hope, and one he already knew was false before the words even passed his lips.

"I don't think he was, Cas," Sam replied. "Sorry." He _was_ sorry, Castiel could hear it in his voice. It didn't help.

Castiel looked Heavenward, though he knew that wasn't where God was. It didn't matter. He would hear His son's message. "You son of a bitch. I believed in…" … _you_. But Castiel wouldn't say it. His Father didn't deserve it. His Father had _never_ deserved it. He grasped Dean's amulet for only a moment before tossing it to the hunter.

"I don't need this anymore. It's worthless."

Like so many other things.

~*~

The archangel appeared next to him on a stool at the backwater bar Castiel had chosen for this venture.

"Are you happy now?" Castiel asked, downing the shot in his hand the same way he'd watched Dean do so many times.

"This isn't what I wanted," Gabriel murmured, but it seemed as though he was speaking to himself. Which was good, because Castiel's head was swimming, and his eyes were blurry, and he wasn't entirely positive he could properly understand words right now, let alone speak many of them. He wasn't even entirely sure Gabriel wasn't an illusion conjured by his alcohol-saturated brain.

This idea only intensified when the hallucination leaned over, pressed one fierce kiss into Castiel's hair, the spot just above his ear, and then whispered, "Don't you dare give up now. I was _wrong_ , Castiel. Your friends still need you. _I_ still need you." A long pause, and then, "You're the best of _all_ of us, kid."

And just as suddenly as Gabriel had appeared, he vanished, nothing to mark his passing but a ringing in Castiel's ears and an untouched beer where he'd been sitting.

Castiel sat staring numbly for a long time, and when the silence became overwhelming, and the memories became too much, he grabbed that beer and downed it as quickly as he had all the others.

~*~

Dean broke. It was inevitable.

It could have been the thing that finally tipped Castiel over the edge completely. He was half a step from Fallen, as faithless as any angel could get, and he had nowhere to turn for help or hope. Dean was his closest friend, the one he'd given everything for, the only thing he _believed_ in anymore. He loved Dean, cared more for him than he ever had any of his brothers and sisters in Heaven. He would give his life for Dean, without a second's hesitation. Dean, when it came down to it, had never let him down before.

Dean was the _only_ being in all of Creation who had never let him down.

And Dean broke.

Dean took his sacrifices, his friendship, his love, and made them all meaningless.

It should have shattered Castiel completely, but instead, it gave him that one final spark. It gave him purpose.

He _would not_ let Dean do this, he _would_ find a way to stop it.

He had to.

He _had_ to.

…He didn't.

The sigil Dean used, the sigil _Castiel_ had taught him, the latest in a long line of hurts and betrayals by ones he'd called friends, sent Castiel far enough away that it took him a long time to drag himself together enough to get back and find Dean again. By then, the hunter was already on the verge of handing himself right into Heaven's hands, and that…that was it. _Enough_.

Castiel snapped.

He grabbed Dean by the collar, _threw_ him into the alley. " _I rebelled for this!_ " A shove, Dean slamming against the cold brick wall, anger beyond anything Castiel had ever felt coursing through his veins, his heart, his very _grace_. No angel was meant to feel this sort of rage, but he took it, and he embraced it, and he _used_ it. "So that you could surrender to _them?_ " He ignored Dean's pleas, didn't listen to him begging. Castiel's words were charged with righteous fury such as he'd never experienced. "I gave _everything_ for you, and this is what you give to me."

Ready, so ready, to finish it. To kill Dean and lead Heaven straight to him. It was what Dean wanted. It was what the entire Host wanted. What the entire world was waiting for.

It was what _Gabriel_ had wanted.

But his fist had already relaxed, his temper already eased.

_Not like this._

He reached out, touched Dean's forehead, and took the hunter home.

But his faith, whatever tattered, broken pieces had survived, was gone. Whatever Sam said to try and convince him otherwise, Castiel's trust in Dean was broken. And when the opportunity came to rip himself to pieces, to send all the angels away and give Sam and Dean a head start on saving their half-brother, he latched onto it like a drowning man to a lifeboat.

It was suicide, and he knew it. He would never survive this.

He was fairly certain he didn't want to.

As he’d told Dean… At least this way, he wouldn’t be forced to watch the hunter fail.

~*~

It was worse than dying.

It was worse than all the tortures of Heaven and Hell combined.

And it took a very long time to end.

~*~

He floated on a sea of darkness, lulled into dreaming by the waves of gentle numbness lapping against his consciousness. He was aware of the passing of time only in the most vague sense.

In his entire existence, he’d only really _slept_ once, and that had been a deep, dreamless sleep brought on by grace and angelsong, so long ago he barely remembered it.

This was different, and perhaps, had he truly thought to question it, it would have worried him, but all he cared about was the peace that had settled over him like a warm blanket. For a time, that was all he _could_ care about.

But eventually, there was a prodding at his consciousness, someone poking him awake via his thoughts, and then there was aggravation at the interruption, and then there was fear at who could be doing it, and then there was…

_Pain._

It took him a few moments to realize that the moan he could hear was coming from _him_ , and another few to find the resolve to grit his teeth together and stop. Everything – _everything_ – hurt, right down to the marrow in his bones.

 _His_ bones.

 _His_ body.

_Mortal._

__  
**Human.**  


He’d known it was coming. He had been increasingly aware of the hourglass trickle of his grace draining away, minute by minute, more with every surge of power he was forced to use.

“Oh, Father…” he breathed, nothing more than a whisper because just the act of taking a breath hurt unimaginably. “No…”

“Easy, kid,” he heard, a familiar voice accompanied by an equally familiar touch, a gentle pressure against his chest, a steady flow of healing grace. Panic shot through him, made something inside him burn as his eyes flew open and zeroed in on the archangel by his side. He swallowed harshly, trying to find his voice, trying to remember where he was, and _why_ , and why Gabriel would possibly be here.

“It has been a very long time since I have been a _kid_ , brother,” he managed to growl, barely. “And longer still since _you_ have had the right to call me anything.”

Gabriel’s lips twitched into a self-deprecating smile. “Touché,” he said, but didn’t remove his hand from the wound on Castiel’s chest. “You really did a number on yourself.” He sounded _sad_ , Castiel thought, slightly incredulous, trying desperately to put some order to the chaos of his thoughts. “I tried to get there, but with all those fancy wards you’ve got going on, by the time I did…”

“Why?” Castiel managed to ask, against his better judgment. _Why would you try to help me with anything?_

Gabriel shrugged, pulling away as the last angry red line faded to little more than a thin white scar. Castiel struggled to sit up, but fell back with a groan when every muscle protested. “Sorry I can’t do more,” Gabriel said, noting his discomfort. “Healing that sigil took a lot of juice the past week you've been laid up here, and I need to hang onto the rest of what I’ve got. Gonna need it pretty quick.”

It was the tone in his voice that had Castiel’s eyes flying back to his, searching Gabriel’s face. “Gabriel, what…?”

“I told you before that it was your failure that made me lose hope.” At Castiel’s pained grimace, Gabriel looked away. “I never should’ve said that. It wasn’t true.” The archangel stood, paced to the other side of the room, folded his arms like he didn’t know what else to do with them. “Truth is Castiel, I _did_ bring you back. But the know-how to do it? That didn’t come from me.” He worked his jaw for a minute, his amber eyes discontent. “Only Dad could’ve uploaded info like that onto my harddrive. Just like he told me where the Winchesters were so I could get them out of Lucifer's way. So yeah, you were right all along. Dad was always here.”

Castiel blinked. He knew all of this, remembered what the Winchesters had told him after they'd met with Joshua. Couldn't purge it from his brain if he'd wanted to.

“But see, that’s the thing!” Gabriel was working himself up now, anger setting into the set of his shoulders, the lines of his face. “Dad _knew_. He knew all along, and He just…doesn’t care. Lucifer is back, and He _doesn’t care_. We’re on our own with this, just like we’ve been since the war, and I had thought maybe things would be different, but…” He paused, took a breath. “He’s nowhere to be found, just another deadbeat dad. And learning that the second time around sucked just as much as the first. Right when I’d finally gotten around to having the tiniest bit of hope for my family again, because of _you_ , because you were doing the right thing, He ripped it away by letting this whole damn apocalypse start anyway.

“I never should have blamed you, or taken it out on you. It wasn’t your failure that made me run this time, Castiel. It was _His_. It was _always_ His.”

“And I was just the baggage you left behind?” Castiel asked, something settling into his throat and making it hard to speak.

Gabriel’s eyes were agonized now, as he made his way back to the bed and sat down gingerly on the edge. “I left because I thought…” He swallowed harshly, looked away. “I left because I couldn’t follow their orders. I couldn’t kill my brothers, I couldn’t watch my family tear itself apart.” His voice got very small. “And I left because I thought it was _me_. I thought I was…wrong, somehow, that Dad had made me _wrong_ , and I thought that I was corrupting you by staying.”

Castiel’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Gabriel…”

“And I left because I needed to hide,” Gabriel rushed on. “ _They_ needed to believe I was dead, which meant _you_ needed to believe I was dead. If we’d both vanished, they’d have never stopped searching, and I just… I _couldn’t_ , Castiel. Maybe I was weak, or a coward, but…”

“How could you bear it?” Castiel asked, his voice wretchedly weak, tears springing unbidden to his eyes, and _Father_ , how he hated this newfound humanity already. “The bond…”

“I closed it off, tight as I could, and kept it that way.” Gabriel’s eyes were closed, his head bowed, hands fisted in his lap. A lock of hair fell into his face, and Castiel ached to reach up and push it back. He clenched his own hands, digging them into his thighs. “I closed it off, and tried to forget about it while I gave myself over to decadence and godhood.” He snorted. “There’s irony there, shutting away the one thing in my existence that made me the happiest so that I could indulge in all the things down here that _should_ have, but never did. But then, my life is all about the ironic justice these days.”

“Loki,” Castiel said, softly, and a shudder passed over Gabriel’s frame before he turned to stare at his brother.

“You… _Hell_ , Castiel, you don’t…”

“ _Loki_ ,” Castiel said again, the word a growl this time, a challenge. “It is a part of who you are, is it not? When will you ever be able to accept that it was _you_ , _all_ of you, who I loved? You were not made _wrong_ , Gabriel, but you were made to be _mine_ , and you _took that from me_.” He was all but shouting now, ignoring the way it made the pain in his body flare and the way Gabriel flinched with every word, ignoring everything but the way his fury made his voice strong. “ _I loved you_ , with all that I was, and you _took that away_. You very nearly destroyed me!”

“I…” Something shattered in Gabriel’s eyes. “Castiel…”

All of the fight abruptly went out of the fallen angel, and he sagged back against the pillows. “You could have told me. I would have done _anything_ for you. Even let you leave for thousands of years and become a pagan god. I would have tried to understand. At least I would have _known_.”

“You never could’ve hidden it from them.”

“No.” Castiel sank deeper into himself, his eyes closing. “No, I never could have. Not back then.” Now he could. There was no doubt about that. He was a far different angel now than he’d been when Gabriel left.

He wondered, abruptly, if Gabriel could ever have loved who he’d become.

“Course I can. You act like I ever stopped,” the archangel responded to his thoughts, and Castiel wanted to sob. He’d lost all control over his thoughts, his feelings, _everything_. How did humans handle it, he wondered?

And then Gabriel’s words trickled into his head, and his breath caught. “You…”

“I get why you might doubt it, but… I mean, I followed you into Hell, Castiel. Nearly lost my grace bringing you back to life. Found a way to stop the apocalypse and put Lucifer – my _brother_ – back in his cage. Even tracked down your charges so I can go and keep them out of the trouble they’re about to get themselves into.” Gabriel fiddled with a corner of the blanket. “Seriously, what more’s a guy gotta do?” he mumbled.

“You…” Castiel was having trouble forcing words against the constriction in his throat. There was too much too process, too much…

“I _never stopped_ , Castiel.” Gabriel’s words were quiet, but firm. “I wasn’t perfect, and living down here…it changes a guy. I did a lot of things I’m not exactly proud of. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a single second.” He stood, released a small sigh. “I’ve gotta go, kid. I know the timing sucks, but…I have family down here, now, and they mean something to me, and they’re in trouble. And those damn Winchesters are right in the thick of it as expected, so I get to save their troublesome asses on top of it.”

_Family. People in trouble._

_Gabriel leaving._

_The Winchesters._

__  
**Dean.**  


Memory surfaced abruptly, and panic rose in his chest. Castiel’s hand was reaching out before he was aware of moving, grabbing Gabriel’s arm and pulling him closer as he fought for words. “What…”

Gabriel touched a finger to Castiel’s mouth, quieting him, smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth as his eyes brightened. “Didn’t I mention? Your boy Dean there didn’t let you down after all. He’s still safely ensconced in his own skin, still as annoying as ever.”

And memory from even further back tugged at Castiel. “You trusted him, with me. You told me to help him, to befriend him.” Incredibly, something about the thought made Castiel want to smile.

Not all was as lost as he’d believed.

Gabriel glowered, but he looked almost pathetically happy behind the scowl. “Yeah, well, what can I say. Those Winchesters grow on you after a while. Like fungus. Or mold.” He went to pull back, and Castiel clasped harder. “Castiel…” It was a plea.

Castiel tugged, his heart beating in triple measure when Gabriel didn’t resist, and then he pulled the archangel down, cupped the back of his neck and angled his head and pressed his lips to the archangel’s the way he somehow remembered even after lifetimes apart…

Gabriel tasted of chocolate and peppermint, and though Castiel had never had occasion to try either, beyond small tastes Dean had forced on him, they suddenly became his most favorite flavors in the world, making him instantly addicted. He licked as much of the taste as he could from Gabriel's mouth before regretfully pulling away. Registered the small whimper from Gabriel that made him twitch to pull him immediately back. “You should go,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“But…”

“There is still much to discuss.” More than they’d ever have time for, more than they ever _could_. But it would wait. It had waited this long. “Please, Gabriel. Take care of your family. And…and mine.”

Gabriel’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Castiel’s hand once. Then he raised his other hand, snapped his fingers…

…and was gone.

Castiel’s hand fell back to the bed with a thump, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. Prayers he hadn’t uttered in months fell from his lips because he had Gabriel _back_ , just as he inexplicably had Dean back, and those both had to be miracles, and his Father _had_ to look after them while Castiel couldn’t.

He _had_ to.

~*~

_Castiel_ , he heard, and only one person had ever said his name like that. Like he meant everything to them, like he was something precious.

It was so long since he'd last heard his name spoken that way, but his heart opened to Gabriel as easily in this moment as it ever had back then.

 _Castiel, tell me…_ A pause, filled with something Castiel didn't understand. _Tell me you love me. Please? Even if it's a lie, even if –_

 _Gabriel._ The name whispered down the bond, cutting Gabriel off. _Gabriel, of course I do. I love you, I have **always** loved you. I wouldn't know how not to._

A deep welling of sadness and joy, simultaneous and so entwined it was impossible to tell where one emotion began and the other ended. Castiel ached everywhere, but he sat up, his eyes wide, hands clenched in the bed sheets that pooled around him. Something was wrong, something was happening, something…

_Gabriel…_

_I love you, too. Always, little brother. In this world, the next, and any in between. And I'm so sorry. I'd spend eternity making things right if I could, but all I've got time for is a lackluster, insufficient apology. So, I'm sorry._

God, no. This couldn't be what it sounded like, this couldn't be goodbye, not when he'd _finally_ gotten Gabriel back. _Gabriel, please, what are you –_

_I need to stand up for what I believe in, right?_

Not like this. Please, Father, not like this…

_So that's what I'm doing. I'm standing up, for the earth, and humanity, and…for you. Because you're what I believe in the most. I just…wanted you to know._

Tears gathered in Castiel's eyes, spilled unchecked down his cheeks. _No…Gabriel, please…_

It was like a dam breaking. The bond, dormant and closed off for so long, flared wide open, and _Gabriel_ rushed in. Everything that made the archangel who he was, every feeling, every emotion, everything he'd held back since leaving Heaven. It was a storm of Light, of Grace, of _Love_ , so much love, and all for Castiel. Castiel woven into every fiber, like he'd always belonged right there, tangled up with Gabriel.

It crashed over him like a tsunami, and he gasped at the power of it, at the presence _behind_ it. He'd never known love like this. This was the love of an archangel, and it was all-consuming, all for _him_.

It filled him until he thought he would burst from it, until he thought it must surely be too much for this fragile body to handle, and it kept filling him even as he felt the blade pierce Gabriel's grace, even as he felt his lover's last desperate breath.

It filled him and strengthened him and kept him afloat, and he clung to it with everything he could.

~*~

_This is it, this is the moment. The memories at their most powerful, Castiel's emotions running at their deepest. The bond as flooded now by his love as it was then by Gabriel's, and now, with both of their bodies glowing brightly, chasing away all of the deep shadows of the room around them, Castiel is ready._

_He never asked, never had a **chance** to ask, how Gabriel brought him back, what instructions God gave, but it doesn't matter. This will work._

_This will work, because he has one final memory, one more piece of the puzzle. One last gift bestowed on him that makes all of this possible._

_This will work._

_He presses his palm to Gabriel's forehead, closes his eyes, and **reaches**._

~*~

“So you are Castiel.”

Castiel looked up at the voice, blinked at the sight of the dark-skinned woman who stood in the doorway to his hospital room. The woman who was obviously far more than just a woman. His eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” He was powerless here, powerless and mortal and so terrifyingly weak, but he would not go down in a fight without at least attempting to defend himself.

She entered the room quietly, closed the door behind her. She walked with grace and elegance and _presence_ , something that was not quite a smirk curling her lips as she took a seat delicately on the bed beside him. “My name, or one of them, is Kali,” she said, and Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. “In another lifetime, I was your mate’s lover.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Castiel growled, his fingers digging at the fabric of the bedspread. “Why are you _here?_ ”

“I’m here because you deserve to know that he died protecting your charges, and me. More than that, he died protecting _you_ , and everything you represent. You deserve to know that he faced Lucifer with only your name in his heart.”

Castiel struggled to stay calm and focused in the face of her dispassionate voice, but a new tear slipped out against his wishes, trailing down his cheek and falling to his lap. Just another sign of how far he’d fallen.

Kali looked away, gazing out the window at the bright sky, puffy clouds trailing lazily through endless blue. “We were together a long time,” she said after a moment, “but he was never mine to claim.” Ageless eyes came back to his, held. “You never left his thoughts, and it was your name, always in his mind and his heart, that eventually led me to the truth about the one I knew then as Loki. So never doubt that he loved you as he could never have loved me.” She paused. “And never doubt that I loved him the same.”

Castiel didn’t have it in his heart to be jealous of this woman – this _goddess_. He knew Gabriel loved him, now. Knew that Gabriel had _always_ loved him, even if he didn’t know what to do with the knowledge. And it was too late now, anyway. Maybe it had always been too late. “Thank you,” he said finally, bowing his head. “But I don’t understand why –”

He cut himself off with a hiss when he felt a sharp prick at his arm, looked down to see a clean line of blood. Kali gazed at it for a long moment, during which Castiel fought to find words, wondered what she thought she was doing, before she drew a slim vial from a hidden pocket of her skirt. A vial already half filled with crimson blood. When he would have spoken, she pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him. “I doubt that blood bonds hold any meaning for angels. But perhaps someday, you’ll find this one to be useful to you. Gabriel was never mine to claim, because he was _already_ claimed, and so I pass this bond of blood to you. Use it wisely, if you use it at all, Castiel.” She pressed the tip of the vial to his wound, allowed a few drops of his blood to mix with that already collected – _Gabriel’s_ blood – before pulling it back and chanting a few words in a language Castiel no longer had the power to understand.

There was a bright light, bright enough to hurt Castiel’s now-sensitive eyesight, and he flinched away from it, shielding his eyes. When he dared to open them again, the room was empty, his wound healed, the blood gone.

And a new bond to Gabriel was settled firmly around his heart, this one more earthly, more _carnal_ , than any other they’d ever shared. Dead though the archangel may be, mortal though Castiel himself now was, he could feel the new bond, a pulse of energy almost sensual in its form and function.

He pressed a fist to his chest, swallowed hard around the sobs that tried to claw their way out of his throat, and whispered a prayer of gratitude to the goddess Kali.

Blasphemous or not, she’d given him a gift he could never hope to repay. Someday, if he lived long enough, perhaps he’d be able to find a way to use it.

Until then…

Until then, it was time to call his friends.

It was time to put an end to this madness, once and for all.

~*~

_He hears Gabriel's Song in the air around him, feels the press of Grace against his skin. Light coalesces, brighter even than the light radiating from his body and Gabriel's. Beneath his hand, flesh is warming, blood beginning to flow beneath the surface. This vessel his brother created, perfectly preserved and ready to live again. Ready for the archangel to come home._

_The wound in Gabriel's chest knits together, sewn closed with threads of Castiel's own grace._

_The body ready, he next reaches for the bond, the original bond. It glows golden in his mind's eye, beautiful but unbalanced. Castiel was only a foot soldier, a relatively low-ranking garrison angel, when this bond was created, and for all of Gabriel's love for him and all of his for Gabriel, what was between them could never be equal then. It's the only reason Gabriel was able to keep it hidden for all those years._

_But now…_

_Now, Castiel is an archangel in his own right._

_So he strengthens it, filling it with grace and with love and with all the parts of himself that mean anything. It shimmers, overflowing with radiance and angelsong, and Gabriel's presence around him grows stronger. Clearer._

_With the blade he keeps at his side, he cuts his hand, then Gabriel's. Presses them together, palm to palm, and holds. Blood mixing and mingling as he reaches mentally for the bond Kali set in place. He's felt it since that day, but now…now he can see it. Now he can take it and twine it, braiding it together with the bond of grace._

_Creating something entirely new._

_Something stronger._

_**Gabriel,** he sings, and around him, a breeze stirs the still air. **Gabriel. Come back to me.**_

_He lets his conscious mind fully sink into the bond, feels his way along the currents of it. Finds more of Gabriel's essence piece by piece, and tugs them to him._

_The light is beginning to be blinding even to him, but he doesn't turn away from it. He rejoices at it, because he knows…_

_He **knows…**_

__  
**Gabriel!**  


_And he hears, only in the softest whisper, but it may as well be the choruses of Heaven:_

_**I'm here, Castiel.** He feels the body beneath him take a breath, feels the hand he's holding tighten around his own, feels the bond expand to encompass his entire essence. **I'm home.**_

__  
**You brought me home.**  


~*~

Gabriel opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees, the very first, is Castiel.

His Castiel.

The last time he saw his bondmate, Castiel had been lying in a hospital bed, mortal and broken and so beautiful even then that Gabriel's grace ached with it. Now…now there's a light around Castiel that Gabriel's never seen before, and the bond that has lain so quietly for so many years is buzzing just beneath the surface of his grace, deep and powerful now in ways he doesn't think he has it in him to understand yet.

It looks like somebody earned himself a big-time promotion, and _damn_ if it's not a good look on him.

All at once, Gabriel wants to reach up, wants to caress the face above him, wants to drag Castiel down and plunder his mouth _right now_ , because he's been dead for Dad only knows how long, and Castiel is _right here_ , and Gabriel doesn't really know what to do with that, doesn't know how to deal with the mountain of questions in his mind or his heart, but he _does_ know that he wants Castiel. It's like fire in his grace, the way the need burns through him, and he sees it reflected in Castiel's eyes as they continue to stare at each other.

It's Castiel who moves first, Castiel who leans down and brushes his lips across Gabriel's forehead. " _Gabriel_ ," he whispers, a prayer. Grace brushes grace, and there's reverence there. And hope. And _love_.

Always so much love, and Gabriel's never done a single thing to deserve it.

He doesn't realize the whimper comes from him until Castiel pulls back, brow furrowed. There's no way, no possible way for Gabriel to open his mouth and tell him that it's too much, that he doesn't deserve it, that Castiel would have been better off forgetting all about him.

But Castiel has always read him better than anyone, better even than his own damn Father, and that apparently isn’t any less true now than it was back in Heaven an eon ago. Castiel sits back, his expression closing off bit by bit until he's simply watching Gabriel. "You should rest," he finally says, and before Gabriel can say a word, gentle fingers brush his skin, and the world fades to dreams.

~*~

The next time he wakes – far more pleasantly than the last time, thank you very much – it takes him a long time to realize that the weight curled against his side is Castiel, sound asleep and breathing softly against Gabriel's neck.

He stiffens, shock and fear and desire and tenderness and _hope_ all battling for dominance inside him. He doesn't understand how Castiel can do this, after everything – how he can lay here in Gabriel's arms like the last millennia never happened, like nothing has changed since the very first time they kissed.

The bond pulses between them, and Gabriel can feel the changes to it. It's more balanced, now, and stronger in ways not possible by any of Heaven's means. He can feel Kali's influence, is moved almost to tears both at the idea that she willingly gave such a boon, and that Castiel accepted it.

Castiel shifts minutely in his sleep. Gabriel soothes him, carding his fingers through Castiel's hair and caressing the bond in a way he'd be terrified to do if Castiel was awake to feel it.

The angel is more than exhausted. His grace is weakened, drained. Not like it was when he was Falling, just in a way that tells Gabriel he's been overtaxing himself too damn much. Gabriel doesn't know what Castiel had to do to bring him back, but whatever it was, he knows he didn't deserve it, and Castiel didn't deserve to go through it.

And yet Castiel did. Castiel was _willing_ to.

For _him_.

It's been a long time since Gabriel had the luxury of faith, and every time he's tried since then, it's always been torn away from him. But right now, he thinks maybe that's exactly what he's feeling right now.

_Faith._

He has a chance to fix things. Castiel is _giving_ him that chance, against all of Gabriel's expectations.

He's not going to waste it.

He allows himself to slide back into sleep, feeling almost content, sure at least in the knowledge that Castiel will still be here when he wakes.

They'll talk then.

~*~

Hours or days later, they're both freshly awake, lying side-by-side on the ridiculously hard floor and blinking at each other.

Castiel was always good at the staring thing, but it seems like he's perfected the art, because it's Gabriel who looks away first, unsure how to vocalize everything he's feeling, and terrified of using the bond to speak for him.

Castiel sits up and sighs. "How are you feeling?" He finally asks, maybe the only safe thing he can think of. His voice, the rough scrape of it that Gabriel had only gotten a hint of earlier, is pretty much the best thing he's ever heard. It soothes, for the moment at least, the thing clawing away inside of him, reaching for his bonded in a way Gabriel _knows_ he's long since lost the right to do.

He forces himself to take stock, notes the ache of his vessel's joints, the pull of muscles that haven't been moved in… "How long?" he asks, before he can talk himself out of it.

To his credit, Castiel doesn't pretend to misunderstand the question. "Two years," he says quietly.

Gabriel swallows back the thing that tries to lodge itself in his throat. "Well then. All things considered, I might as well be chock full of sunshine and rainbows."

An unexpected smile twitches at Castiel's lips, and for half a second, Gabriel lets himself revel in it, before he remembers that even if he was the one who taught Castiel to smile, he probably isn't the reason he remembers how to now. "Two years," he says instead. "Wow. Musta been some showdown." He doesn't want to think about it, but he thinks he maybe needs to know.

Something new that Gabriel doesn't like slithers into Castiel's gaze, and whatever it is feels oily and cold along the bond. "The battle itself was very short," Castiel tells him, though he's looking somewhere over Gabriel's shoulder. "And took place only a short time after you…"

Gabriel doesn't make him say it. "Oh…" he manages. "So then, you just –"

That endless blue gaze pierces right through him, has him clamping his mouth shut tight. "I would have been here the very next moment, if I'd had the luxury of a _choice_ ," he says. That growl does funny things to Gabriel, things he'd rather not admit to. But Castiel reaches up, rubs at his forehead as a guilty look enters his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "Gabriel, I'm sorry, I'm not… It has been a very long two years."

Every muscle and tendon and bone and _blood cell_ Gabriel's vessel possesses hurts in new and interesting ways he's never experienced before and apparently can't turn off, but it doesn't stop him from sitting up so he can face Castiel more at eye level. He hisses when he twists his arm in a direction it doesn't want to go, and Castiel scowls at him. A blink, and suddenly the table that had been two feet away is right behind Gabriel, and it's enough for him to lean back against the leg and breathe hard for a few moments. " _Damn_ , being dead takes a lot out of you," he mutters.

"You'll recover," Castiel says, his voice dry.

Gabriel tries to ignore his own twinge of guilt. Yeah, if anyone would know… "So something happened, then, after Lucifer…?" Hell, he _hopes_ it was Lucifer, but if it's been two years, he's pretty sure it _had_ to be, for there to still be a world for him to get brought back to.

"Lucifer and Michael were locked in the cage." The words are said gently, but that only makes it worse. Gabriel knows he can't hide the way the news slices into him like a thousand razor blades, but he tries anyway. Just like he tries to ignore the pity in Castiel's eyes, the sympathy along the bond. Silently, he wills Castiel to keep going, hoping it'll hurt less if he hears it all at once. Still, even though he pretty much knows it's coming, it's agony that's both brand new and horribly familiar, hearing the next words. "Almost immediately after, God brought me back as you see me now, and Raphael engaged me in war."

"Bet he was pissed about your promotion," Gabriel says, feeling numb. Castiel had died. _Again_. And he hadn't been here to stop it, would never have known… He swallows hard, forcing the thought away and realizing that maybe, just maybe, he owes his Father some sort of thank-you, even though _thank you_ will never be enough. There isn't much God can or seems willing to do for the rest of their family anymore, but Gabriel will forgive him a thousand times over if it means Castiel is alive and well. And _wow_ , it's kind of a sucker-punch, realizing that.

Of course, meanwhile, the rest of his family… Father, why do they hate each other so _much?_

"I very much doubt he was pleased by it, at any rate." Castiel's gazing at him with concern, but he continues at Gabriel's sharp look. "Balthazar, ever your protégé, faked his death so he could steal Heaven's weapons. In the end, that was probably the only thing that saved my life and ensured my victory over Raphael. But it was not an easy war."

Gabriel can see it, in the lines Castiel's human face shouldn't have, in the frayed edges of his grace, in the way he slouches as though burdened by the weight of a hundred worlds. He's almost afraid to ask the next question. "And the Winchesters…they –"

"Alive and well." And _there_ it is, just a tiny bit of the happiness Gabriel's been itching to see cross that face. "Things were…difficult, for a time. But their bond, as always, has proven more than able to withstand every test they put it through."

Gabriel snorts. "They figure it out yet?"

"Gabriel," Castiel admonishes, but his smile – that tiny, wonderful, _perfect_ smile – widens another fraction. "I believe they are beginning to… _get it_." He makes a soft, wistful sound in his throat. "They're looking for a place to settle down to take a break from hunting. Dean is more peaceful right now than I've ever seen him, and Sam… He would follow his brother to Hell and back again just to see him happy. They'll be all right, now that Eve is gone and the threat of the apocalypse is truly over."

Eve… _Eve?_ Gabriel's eyes widen, but damn it, he's not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. On the one hand, he's suddenly very glad he wasn't around to see whatever horrors she gift-wrapped for humanity as a whole and the Winchesters in particular. On the other, he's spitting mad he wasn't around to give her a goddamn piece of his mind. He swallows that down as well, focuses on other more important things. "So Raphael is…"

Castiel stares hard at the floor, but the words he finally says aren't the ones Gabriel is expecting. "He has been judged, and awaits his punishment as we speak."

"You're not –"

"There has been enough death amongst the angels to last a thousand lifetimes." Castiel's voice lashes out, strikes like the crack of a whip, but then he subsides almost instantly, rubbing the bridge of his nose and trying to stop his body from trembling.

Slowly, almost _glacially_ , Gabriel reaches over, places a hand on Castiel's arm. When Castiel goes very still and doesn't pull away, he sends the smallest possible thread of comfort along the bond, feels it warm the parts of Castiel that are so cold. One iota at a time, Castiel relaxes. He sighs, closing his eyes and curling his other hand over Gabriel's. Gabriel's heart is fluttering like a hummingbird's, but all he does is inch closer, open himself to the bond just the smallest bit more.

"I was not part of the trials," Castiel says quietly. "Except to bear witness. Raphael and his most loyal followers were judged by Joshua. They are to lose their graces. They will Fall, and live amongst humanity. Be judged as humans when their time comes. It was the fairest punishment he could have given."

"Worse than death, to someone like Raphael. Almost poetic." Gabriel smirks, and could live forever just to watch the way Castiel's eyes sparkle at him.

"Obviously you approve then." He sounds surprised.

"I love my brothers," Gabriel says, looking away. "But I'm not blind to their faults." _Or to my own_. He can't stop the words from crossing the bond.

"Gabriel…"

"Well someone had to say it," he mumbles, closing his eyes. He would pull his hand back, but Castiel's grip has already tightened around it, and he's trapped. "Why'd you bring me back?" he finally whispers.

He sneaks a look back up just in time to see Castiel bow his head. "Because there is nothing worth living for if you are not with me."

Gabriel's heart breaks, even as it misses a beat and his grace begins to _sing_. "You… _Castiel_ , damn it, you can't just –"

"I have loved you almost my entire life," Castiel says, his voice still soft as his eyes rise to Gabriel's. "Time could not destroy it. Destiny could not change it. _Death_ could not stop it."

"And betrayal?" Gabriel asks. Has to ask, and he does pull his hand away now. "Could that?"

"No." Calm and sure and not a trace of hesitation, and it makes Gabriel quaver.

"I don't get you." Gabriel shakes his head, clenching his fists against his knees as he draws them up to his chest. "I would give _anything_ to make up for what I put you through, and I _know_ there's nothing I could give that would be enough, but damn it, I would spend the rest of my life trying, and you…you don't even want it, do you?"

Castiel tilts his head, studying him. "Anything?" he asks.

Gabriel freezes. His eyes slide slowly back to Castiel's, and he takes a few shuddering breaths. "I would go home," he chokes out, and it's the hardest thing he's ever said, but he means it. For Castiel, he means it. "I'll go home, and I'll…I'll make things right. I'll help, whatever you need –"

"Gabriel." Castiel comes closer, reaches out and takes both of Gabriel's hands in his own. "What I need is _you_. That's all I've ever needed." He takes a breath, and Gabriel is watching him with an expression he's pretty sure looks a lot like a deer in headlights, but he can't move, can barely even _breathe_ , and despite the fact that he's an angel who shouldn't need to, he feels dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

"Then what –"

"Heaven holds no place for me anymore. The Host is safe from any who would threaten them, and Joshua is an able leader in our Father's stead. My home and my family are both here. And _here_ is where I wish to remain. With you. If that is something you think you could want."

Gabriel takes in one startled breath of air, relief and joy and wonder crashing over him, the bond flaring and enveloping him, and then it gets even _better_ because Castiel's arms come around him as well and he thinks, if this is a dream, it better not _ever_ end.

"Not a dream," Castiel murmurs. "Not a dream, my Gabriel."

Gabriel clings to him, his eyes falling to the ground by his side. The scorch marks where his wings burned make him shiver, even though he can feel them restlessly twitch against his grace and knows that they're safe and whole now.

Castiel extracts himself from Gabriel's hold and stands, holding out a hand for Gabriel. "We shouldn't stay here," he says.

Gabriel climbs to his feet, grateful for Castiel's arm wrapping around him when he wobbles. "Must have been a hell of a ritual you pulled off," he grunts. His legs feel like jelly, and his grace is kitten-weak.

But he'll get stronger. Can already feel it happening slowly.

"Someday, perhaps I'll tell you about it." It looks like a lifetime flashes behind Castiel's eyes as he says it, but Gabriel doesn't ask. Castiel needs to recover too, and reliving it all over again right now won't help.

~*~

Dean and Sam are waiting by the Impala when Castiel leads Gabriel out the front door.

Of course they are.

Sam is leaning against the driver's side door, and Dean is leaning against Sam, his head tilted back on his brother's shoulder as they talk softly.

"Two reasons," Castiel says to the question Gabriel asks with a raised eyebrow. "The first is that neither of us will have the energy to fly for some time, and the second best mode of transportation is the car that saved the world." Gabriel's other eyebrow goes up, but for now, he doesn't ask. "And the second is that, if we're going to stay on earth, I thought we could…make an adventure of it."

"Uh…"

Castiel stops walking, turns Gabriel to face him, his eyes glittering in the starlight. "Let's try something new, Gabriel. We both gave our lives to save this world, these people. Let's try doing things their way for a while."

Gabriel blinks. "You want to…Fall?" he asks, because that can't be right.

"No, of course not." Castiel's smile is soft. "But there's no reason we can't try living the way they do. Have a _life_ here. Not just an existence where we snap our fingers and have whatever we want. Something _real_ , and _solid_. A home of our own, and friends, and…Father, a _dog_ , perhaps. Something that's _ours_ , together." He hesitates. "It's just an idea, Gabriel, as long as I'm with you, I don't –"

Gabriel reaches up and places a hand firmly over Castiel's mouth. "You talk too much," he says, even as his mind is whirling. "Your batteries…they're probably running about as low as mine are right now, which means for a while, most things are gonna be beyond either of us anyway." He shrugs, the grin sliding over his face. "And besides that…I kinda like the idea. Not sure I like the idea of tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum being in charge of whatever identities are supposed to get us started, but…I like it." He holds Castiel's gaze, slowly lowers his hand. "I _like_ it, Castiel." _I want that. Yes. **Please.**_

Between one breath and the next, between trepidation giving way to elation, between heartbeats Gabriel never stopped to notice before tonight, Castiel is kissing him. He swoops in and claims Gabriel's mouth like it's the key to his own personal ambrosia, pressing against him like he wants them to be one person, and it's an idea Gabriel can really get behind, because he's already feeling drunk off of Castiel's touch, and the feeling of his lips moving against Gabriel's, and –

"Oh for the love of God, can we _go_ already?"

Castiel laughs helplessly into Gabriel's mouth, and Gabriel doesn't even mind that Dean is the single rudest person on the planet, because that laugh is the best sound in the entire universe, and he wants to hear it again, as much as possible, for the rest of his life. He pulls away, looking up into Castiel's eyes, and he realizes he's going to be able to, because Castiel is giving him that chance.

" _I love you_ ," he says with both words and bond, and he has the pleasure of watching Castiel's eyes go soft and warm and blissful.

That phrase has never before felt like enough to encompass everything Gabriel feels for the angel by his side. But somehow, he decides, they seem like the perfect words for this beautiful, precious new beginning.

 

  
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**~ End ~**


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